


Fragments and Fallacies

by PotatooftheLand



Series: In Pursuit of Harmony [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types, 衛宮さんちの今日のごはん | Emiya-san Chi no Kyou no Gohan | Today's Menu for the Emiya Family (Anime)
Genre: Comedy, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Kidnapping, Pining, Reader-Insert, Romantic Friendship, Sequel, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2019-12-26 05:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 60,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18277202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatooftheLand/pseuds/PotatooftheLand
Summary: Collection of fics with Cu and Diarmuid in their various classes in various AU's from Fate/Grand Order and related fandoms.





	1. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Domestic AU)

**Author's Note:**

> **Domestic AU:** Post Grail Wars, and sequel to Do no Guile nor Treachery. Essentially "Today's Menu with the Emiya Family" - verse, no world ending crisis...just domestic fluff and daily life things :D
> 
> Do I know what I'm doing? Absolutely not, I'm writing the sequel before finishing the original xD 10/10 Potato, because this will probably give spoilers at a later stage with its references. But ya'know, I did this same kind of thing with Transformers once upon a time and people seemed to like that so let's give this a go! xD Nothing is organised in this, it's just going to be random snippets from my brain, enjoy! :D
> 
> P.S. There's no...yandere content for Fate/ Since I'm trying to drag people into my pit and some friends of mine like yandere...be prepared for that to be on the menu in the future xD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tags:** Blind!Reader, Domestic, Fluff, Sequel content, Comedy,

Diarmuid can hardly believe his luck, that he had been summoned back by his beloved Master, to a world without war. Changing classes must have offered more benefits than he could ever have imagined. Many times that morning he feared he were in a reverie, cursed to taste this paradise only for it to be ripped away at any second. He can’t let you go, so afraid of this fate and cruelty that he insists on being in contact with you at all times. If this weren’t some terrible delusion, if there was hope and good and love in this life as you had always told him, then he had to admit that even a device as wicked as the Grail had brought him happiness. That without it’s corruption and power, he would never have met you, could never have known the joy of your companionship.

Trailing along beside you dreamily, his train of thought is broken when your hand slips from his elbow. Immediately, he touches your arm as a loud meow is heard.

“Ah, have you met my son?”

His heart clenched, eyes landing on the cat that had come bounding around the corner, weaving between your legs as you crouched down. You had a son? He supposed that wasn’t unexpected...it had been many years. No, what was more concerning was the fact that they had apparently been cursed into a form of an animal, not unlike Congus...who in a boar’s bestial rage had gored him. Then there had been that swell of emotion beyond surprise, at the thought that you already had a significant other, a family of your own to which he would be secondary...it hurt. The logical part of his brain was swift to cull any notion of disappointment or jealousy that flickered alive, he had no right to these kinds of feelings after all...he himself had children with Grainne even if he had come to realise that marriage a tangle of twisted lovelessness and false consent.

No, if this truly was your offspring, it was his duty to do everything in his power to revert him to his true form. For anyone you cherished, he was surely obligated to as well as your loyal knight, as a true friend. Your happiness was paramount beyond his desires, so even if he might have to bite his tongue and watch you fall into another’s arms, he would do so with a smile however forced, however tinged with longing. Gods, melodramatically he felt like a drink already… He shook his head to clear it, focused on the fact that some malevolent monster had dared to inflict such an unjust punishment upon you and your family, let indignation and anger drown out his recently dashed hopes, desperately trying to quash any romantic captivation that had bloomed in his chest. 

Diarmuid crouched down, trying to stroke the creature who stoutly dodged his affection. He supposed that he might be considered patronising, so guiltily he stood again as it continued clamouring for your attention.

“Is there no way to help him?”

“Pff, he’s just hungry, the diva. I just fed him tonight too...so don’t listen to him! If he’s lurking around outside begging for food, ask me first because 9/10 times I already put out his bowl.” you replied casually, with the same carefree, cheerful tone as always.

He admired your easy cadence, forgiveness of this calamity. Had it been him, he would have been boiling in rage and bitterness...perhaps time had calmed your wounds. But you had always been more mellow than him in that regard.

“(Name)...I pledge to you that I will do my utmost to break the curse on your son.” he promised solemnly as you gave him a confused look.

“Pretzel is cursed?”

“...I assumed so, but please correct me if I am mistaken.”

You two stared at each other for a moment, and through your bond he could sense your worry transition into immense bewilderment. The calico yowled loudly in the background, demanding attention. Then you burst out laughing, finally connecting the dots.

“Haha! No! He’s not my literal, biological son!” you clarified with a grin. “He’s just a stray neighbourhood cat I happen to feed!”

He blinked, watching you clutch your stomach, hooting and finally unlocking the door, stumbling inside still chortling. The relief that flooded him was unprecedented, but undeniable, he was sure you must have felt it ripple through your link.

“I still use modern lingo, sorry if I scared you.”

“There is no need to apologise, I am only glad the cat is merely a cat.” he replied quickly as you put down your bag.

You located your couch, plopping down as you turned in his general direction. Your expression was still mirthful, fond and amused. _He made you laugh, made you happy._ He took a seat close by, reaching out to place his hand over yours, to let you know he was there.

“How've you been? You feel like you’re in a much better place, Diarmuid.” you mentioned off handedly and he smiled. “Like...you’re more self assured. I’m glad.”

“Of course, I’m always in a better place if I’m with you, (Name).” he told you earnestly and you shut your eyes.

“You’re as flattering as ever, I see time hasn’t changed a thing.”

He hesitated, then intertwined your fingers with his. You didn’t live alone, he could see that much. The pair of larger shoes near the entrance, an enchanted jacket just like he used to wear dangling from the coat hanger...no, and somehow his previous trepidation returned. It was selfish, but who could control their heart? He had wanted, almost expected it to just be the two of you...he didn’t want to share. Not now when he had finally found himself, when he was sure of what he would wish for if he had to do it all again. That glass he had bought you, engraved with a Celtic cross looked well used, smelled like alcohol that he knew you never drank. You were wearing gloves but he was sure that if he had peeled them back, your hand would show two sets of Command Seals.

“(Name)...”

The door opened at that moment, and he snapped his gaze to the figure that breezed inside.

“Oi (Name), did you forget to feed Pretzel or something--?”

He stopped dead, crimson eyes landing upon the other Servant present. His first instinct was that there was an enemy _right here_ in ~~your~~ his own house, touching his Master no less. But then he spotted how you faced the Saber, friendly, open, no fear through your connection. His mood soured regardless of there being no immediate danger.

You got up brightly.

“Lancer, you’re back early today! I wasn’t expecting you until later. Cu Chulainn, meet Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.”


	2. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Domestic AU) o2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tags:** Blind!Reader, Domestic, Fluff, Sequel content, Drama, Flashback

_The Child of Light?!_

_Wow, you got a replacement roommate?_

“Of course I came to find you, I felt the huge drop in your mana reserves and thought you were in trouble.” Lancer replied somewhat shortly, eyes narrowed slightly.

“Cu Chulainn, it is an honour to meet you and fight by your side.” Diarmuid said, standing respectfully and dipping his head in greeting.

“Ha! Don’t think there’s going to be much fighting unless we run into the King of NEETs.” he responds airily, casually tossing his bag next to yours.

“...The King of ‘Neets’? I am unfamiliar with this Heroic Spirit.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Gilgamesh makes his presence known whether you like it or not.”

“Archer has been summoned again as well?!”

_Are all the participants of past Grail Wars currently present?_

“Yeah, more like he never left but same difference.” Cu said with a shrug, taking a seat across of you two.

_So, how come you didn’t give me a heads up about our new guest?_

Beneath this cacophony of noise both aloud and in your mind, you felt hurt from both or either of them, it was hard to tell. Having two Servants is a new experience, their thoughts threading through your own. Cu Chulainn, such a legendary figure of Irish mythology, how was he to compare? Then, the fact that you had called upon a Lancer so similar to him...he didn’t know what to think. As if you had went and found a substitute. Flickering jealousy surged through your lines, roiling with Cu’s offense that you had decided not to keep him informed about this development. He hated secrets, being kept in the dark on a ‘need to know’ basis like Kotomine had done, the bastard...It was disorientating and overwhelming, as you took a moment to gather yourself.

“Understandably, everyone is quite confused, let me explain how we got here.” you quickly interjected so you could attain some silence for a while. “A non-mage tried to summon a Heroic Spirit, which could be dangerous and result in another ‘Bluebeard’ Caster. Being the nearest qualified magus, I tried to stop them naturally but the ritual was already underway, the next best option was to override their incantation. This just happened, and I was just about to debrief both of you on the situation.”

“...So I was an accident.” Diarmuid observed quietly.

“No! It’s not like that at all.” you exclaimed miserably. “...Supporting two Servants is always risky, you don’t know if the second one you summon will be who you expect, a Berserker could cause burnout from mana shortage. I couldn’t justify attempting to call you without even a war going on, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you again.”

“But you summoned Cu Chulainn.”

“(Name) didn’t summon me, Bazett did.” he corrected immediately.

“...You feel no obligation to return to your original Master?” Diarmuid asked, surprised.

_Tch, what a transparent attempt to get rid of me…_

_I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way…_

“No, as I didn’t get the chance to work with her before her Command Seals were chopped off and I was stuck with that wretched priest. Besides, she runs around with Avenger these days.”

_He seems to hold little regard for his Masters..._

The admonishment and implication was clear in Saber’s tone even through your mind, what questionable loyalty from a man who could change leige’s so easily. Normally, you would have soothed all the ruffled feathers by now, but you didn’t want to use any mana unnecessarily. This wasn’t going how you had intended in any case, you had hoped they would be pleased to have a companion from the same culture but supposed that friendship would come later. Still, it could be worse. You had enough mana to support both of them and their Noble Phantasms at the cost of ceasing all of your own magecraft so at least there was no immediate danger of dematerialisation. You took a deep breath.

“Yes well, the circumstances were complicated.” you mentioned to try and ease the tension.

“What does that mean?” Diarmuid asked instantly, and his grip on your hand tightened.

You reached through your memories, weaving together the pieces before letting the sounds and emotions slip through your bond as a flashback. It could have been months or years ago, time flowed strangely these days.

\--*--

“Lancer?”

It can’t be...it’s too soon for another Grail War and yet...You can feel the Servant ahead, and they feel just the same. Well, almost the same, you imagine this is what he would feel like without a contract. His outline is similar through your perception spell, lean and muscled even crumpled against the wall in what you assume is his skin tight outfit, spear in hand. That voice has that same Irish accent, although it is uncharacteristically resentful, his growls audible from here. You stop, silence falling over the street. You can feel it now, he’s leaking mana. He’s injured. The only thing you know that is around here is a mapo tofu shop, so you wonder what could have caused that. Nonetheless, instinctively you hurry towards him.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly, placing your hand onto his waist as your magic knits his wound closed. 

Why isn’t he responding? He doesn’t seem to be unconscious or...perhaps, he has forgotten you as those old texts foretold. It hurts, but when you were prepared to never see him again...perhaps this was survivable. You try to look at where you think his eyes would be, to know if there truly is no recognition. The texture of his clothes is similar...

“Hey, thanks for that little lady but I’m not going to last long here without an anchor.” he says abruptly and you can hear the mirth in his tone from all your staring. 

You flinch, his voice is different and you can tell now that it isn’t him. It had been too much to hope for, but it doesn’t matter. Because the fact that he is even present, that there is a Heroic Spirit here means that you have a chance. You give an apologetic smile, before making to stand up again. He catches your wrist however, pulls you back a little closer.

“You’re clearly a magus and I don’t see any Command Seals.” he pats the back of your hand. “So why not contract with me? I promise that I’ll be nice~”

“I’m sorry...I thought you were someone else.” you tell him quietly as his grin slips. “I’m sure your Master is looking for you.”

“Tch, my Master is a coward and a bastard!” he snarls bitterly and your surprise must show on his face.

You blink, shocked at this display. But he wants to live, that much is clear. You glance away. You don’t know if you can do this again...yet there isn’t a war. Had the purification of the Grail truly been successful? You take a deep breath, either way you can’t abandon him. He’s too similar, feels to much like Diarmuid right now for you to turn away. You nod, clasping his hand.

“Answer my call, do so and I will entrust my destiny to your spear.” you recite as the familiar burning cuts into your skin.

“I accept your oath, from this day, Cu Chulainn takes you as his Master.” he replies evenly, and his emotions flare alive within you.

_Anger, bitterness, relief, hope._

He gets up, looking you over from your stick to the dark glasses on your face. Then, to the gentle waveless river of your bond, too calm and pristine to be natural. Beneath though, he can taste disappointment. He huffs, and he hasn’t even done anything yet...But you’re far from the worst choice, your mana well runs deep and there is no malevolence in your words. Besides, he was always partial towards pretty ladies~

“Hey miss, let’s leave, huh?” he offers and you nod, giving a surprised yelp when he picks you up. “This will be quicker than having you walk!”

He leaps from the ground, wind whipping past your face and it’s just like you remember. His hold is different though, you feel more like a sack of potatoes slung over his shoulder than the careful bridal style carry that Diarmuid preferred. Still, you shut your eyes and let yourself believe, for a few moments, that you’re soaring again. You suppose it's nice not to have to go through the ‘made of glass’ period with this guy, apparently.

“Why so quiet? Don’t tell me you’re shy~” he teased and you almost sighed, but he continues before you can respond. “Thanks, by the way.” 

“...Don’t mention it, Lancer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made everyone lowkey jelly because I'm drama queen trash ahaha xD I also have no intention of resolving it :D It doesn't even have to be romantic jelousy, just roommate jealousy xD I'm avoiding the angst in my other fic by hiding here xD


	3. Cu Chulainn | Lancer (April Fool's Day)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tags:** Blind!Reader, Domestic, Fluff, Sequel content, Comedy, Stand alone, April Fool's, Implied NSFW content?

“Good morning, (Name). Did you have fun~?”

Groggily, you identified that smug voice to be emanating from a certain Lancer Servant of yours, although why he was seemingly right next to you in bed was a mystery. Sure, he regularly came bursting in upon sensing that you were awake, but actually lounging about on your mattress in a ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ pose without invitation was new. He threaded his fingers through your hair cheekily, a motion you explicitly know he didn’t start doing until he noticed Diarmuid do it. Sleepily, you feel him plop your hand against his waist. 

“...What?” you question before realising that you’re touching skin, either he’s not wearing a shirt or he’s followed Saber’s trend of crop top armour.

“Hmph, going to pretend that nothing happened? I’m hurt...” he croons as you feel supreme, smarmy satisfaction blared through your bond. “You weren’t like that at all last night in bed~”

You grow still, recollecting your memories at record speed. You remember Cu had unearthed several bottles of Irish whiskey, claiming that he wanted to celebrate your newly summoned Servant but transparently, you knew he was just grabbing any excuse to have a drink. Diarmuid seemed fond of a taste of home, so you decided to join them for a sip or two though. You weren’t much of an alcoholic but knew that it was an important ritual for them. Their conversation had shifted into a language you didn’t understand at some point, as you remember getting tired after...an amount was consumed, the exact quantity eluding you. But you definitely don’t remember doing anything...lewd with Cu if that was what he was implying. Surely Diarmuid wouldn’t have let you embarrass yourself too badly...right? Unless, he was already drunk too…

“Supporting two Servants cost more mana than you thought, hm?” he purred as you followed his line of logic. 

Mana transfer. But why wouldn’t you remember something so important and intimate? Where was Diarmuid when this happened?!

Right on cue, said Servant barreled through your door, your bond betraying your growing panic and confusion.

“(Name)! What is wrong?” Saber asked worriedly, unceremoniously rolling Cu off your covers and eliciting a loud ‘hey!’ of protest.

He promptly occupied the vacated space, crouching by your bedside and clasping your hand, looking very much like a nurse or family member delivering terrible news to a hospital patient. You turned to him, and he hated how your expression was so troubled.

“(Name)?” he ventures again softly.

You recalled now, Saber helping you to your room and tucking you in while Cu tested the resilience of his liver outside. There was no way anything happened and yet...You felt around your blanket. Male clothes were crumpled atop them, and you didn’t even want to know what part you were touching when your hands came away damp. 

“...Diarmuid, did I…?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, as Cu pops up with a huge grin.

“Happy April Fool’s Day! Nothing happened last night, (Name)! Haha, you just went to sleep after like, your first glass!” he announced with a boisterous laugh that hints to you that he might still be working through his intoxicated high. “I just wet those pants under the sink and scrunched them onto your sheets before you woke! Sprayed them with cologne too. I think Saber here would have intervened if I so much as tried to hold your hand while you were inebriated.”

“You--!”

He continued chuckling to himself, at the offended look on your face. This had been a great idea, which was surprising considering that it was concocted by his whiskey-addled brain. But it was too much fun to tease you, he couldn't miss this opportunity, this once a year chance to prank you for free. You're cute even when you're mad at him, he thinks. He doesn't notice the shadow over his fellow Servant's face.

Diarmuid stands calmly, and had Lancer been in range you might have whacked him. Not that it would do much. Ugh...to think he had you worked up for nothing. Apparently though, you need not do so yourself as you feel Moralltach and Beagalltach form from your mana. Yes, somehow you suspect that simultaneously having an overprotective Servant and one that is fond of practical jokes like this is going to result in a rate of Noble Phantasm use.

_In accordance with the code of chivalry, I shall ensure that this deception will not occur again in the future._

Cu suddenly decides that now is a highly convenient time to evict himself from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S xD This is based off this lovely [comic!](https://housespecialfriedrice.tumblr.com/post/167125411444/httpswwwredditcomrgrandordercomments7apw8c) Feel free to leave a review if you enjoy because I'm always thirsty for feedback x'D
> 
> It's not in order with the Domestic AU stuff, so technically this could fit into regular FGO AU. I headcanon Diarmuid to be his typical overprotective, white knight self especially around a blind!Reader while Cu would be more in line with teasing them to show he doesn't view it as a handicap.


	4. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Mail Theft)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tags:** Blind!Reader, Domestic, Sequel content, Comedy, Crack, Adventures of Cu and Diarmuid in the modern world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS SERIES IS, ITS JUST MY RANDOM THOUGHTS I WRITE WHEN I'M AVOIDING ANGST ON THE MAIN xD Still...I am thorst for comments on this crack fic xD I also never know what character to tag it with in the title, because its hardly romantic xD I mean, I butcher Diar's character so badly in these xD Whatever, they're gonna be OT3 idec xD I think Cu could probably rile Dia up into getting into shenanigans though, since they are the adventuring type.

“What are you doing?”

Diarmuid approaches cautiously, watching Cu stare out the window with razor sharp precision, barely blinking as his crimson gaze remained locked on something. He joined his fellow Servant, eyes landing on a mail package by your front door area, neatly wrapped with your name on it. His expression brightened. Yes, he remembered that you had been looking forward to receiving your items, and had been eagerly awaiting the chance to present them to you. They had taken a while to arrive after all.

“Oh, (Name) ordered that off eBay. I’ll go bring it in.” Saber said, turning for the front door only to find his progressed barred by a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s not (Name)’s box.” Cu informed him, still not shifting his gaze.

“...It has their name on it.”

“No, I put it there, it is filled with rocks. Their original package was stolen I believe, that’s why it hasn’t arrived. I’m going to find out who the thief is.”

Diarmuid blinked, remembered how excited you were to collect your order, how you’d asked them everyday whether they had seen it delivered. He felt annoyance gnaw at his chest, to think some robber would steal from _you_ , his dearest Master. How abhorrent. Why did the world insist on making your life difficult when you deserved only nice things? He recalled how you had your laundry stolen all those years ago too at the communal washing machine. It rankled. He joined Cu at his post, both of them glaring surreptitiously from behind the glass, scanning any passerbyers...

He was sure that if they told you though, that despite your disappointment you would write it off as a ‘donation to someone who needed it more’. That was how you liked to rationalise unlucky circumstances that occurred to you. But Saber was sure that if the perpetrator got away once, he’d do it again…

Sure enough, it doesn’t take long before a man walks by, taking a quick look to the left and right before darting to the parcel. Diarmuid has the video recording the moment he starts up the steps as Cu spins around for the door.

“Wait.” snaps Saber, grabbing his elbow to halt him. “Get the evidence first, then make him pay for his crimes.”

Impatiently, the Heroic Spirit lingers, pacing as the stranger makes off with the carton of stones happily. He lugs the case into the back of his car where they find an assorted myriad of other packages, undoubtedly amassed over following the postal truck. Saber scoffs in disgust, as he stalks through the bushes, filming his blatant disregard for parcel delivery law. They keep up easily with his vehicle as he drives home, parking before starting to transfer his loot inside.

“That bastard, I’m going to teach him a lesson with my fists!” snarled Cu angrily, as the man transferred the last of his cargo.

“What would the class be called? How not to be a public nuisance?” Diarmuid replied with a grin, eyes landing on the man’s Honda instead.

“How not to be a thieving asshole!”

“He should be made to pay a fine and return all his stolen goods, that would be proper recompense.”

“This isn’t a multiple choice question, we can do both!”

“...What would (Name) do? We shouldn’t do anything that would displease her. She doesn’t like violence.”

“Oh who cares. She’d probably try to kill him with kindness. Don’t try and stop me.”

Cu promptly picks up a nearby pebble and hurls it at the security camera set up overlooking his porch, turning it into a pile of unsalvageable pieces on the ground. When the door opens and he comes out to investigate, said Lancer leaps from his cover, grabbing the thief by his collar and shoving him back through the entrance, growling low threats. Saber summons Beagalltach. You believed in karma, so this was really just fast tracking that. Content, he sets about slashing his tires and damaging his car against the backdrop of his friend’s angry demands. Technically, he wasn’t the one beating up the guy so it’s not him that should get in trouble for that. 

_Heyyy, so what are you guys up to?_

They freeze simultaneously, exchanging a panicked glance while scanning the area in case you are about to materialise and chew them out for assault and/or trespassing.

_Ah, nothing (Name). Cu and I were merely enjoying a walk tonight._

_Really? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? My two most loyal and lovely, peaceful Servants who I can’t help but notice, are rather incensed right now? Also, they appear to have summoned their Noble Phantasms which I remember saying they should not do around civilians…_

_What can we say? We enjoy really enthusiastic walks._

_Is that right, Cu? Well, can you very enthusiastically walk back home now? Dinner’s getting cold._

_Of course! We’ll be right there, (Name)._

He dumps the man on the ground, gaze acerbic.

“Pay. Up.”

Terrified, the man scrambles to for his wallet, throwing all his cash and cards at the spandex clad warrior in hopes of appeasing his obvious rage. His money is collected disdainfully, as Saber walks up from behind.

“You are to return all your stolen parcels to their recipients by next week as well, along with a 15% inconvenience fee to them for your treachery.”

“*You don’t even know how much a percent is…besides, 15% of what? The value of the package? How is he to calculate that for those that don’t have receipts?*” Cu pointed out in ancient Irish, as Diarmuid shut his eyes.

“*Quiet. You’re not exactly Ireland’s greatest mathematician either. He’ll figure it out.*”

“B-But, you just wrecked my car…”

“So? Walk, you lazy wretch.” retorted Cu, forgetting that common people could not carry kilograms of items about with their bare hands.

Grabbing your original eBay parcel from the pile in his house, the two make their way back along the road.

\--*--

They tumble through the window, sneaking through the halls and finding you sitting at the dining table in the dark, the plates set out and food definitely cold by now. Guiltily, Saber slinks to your side, touching your hand even though he’s sure you already felt their presence.

“Ah, so good of you to join me.”

“...We’re sorry (Name), we didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” apologised Diarmuid miserably as Cu hurriedly concocted a cover story. “We were trying to track down your mail…”

“Yeah, we caught sight of--”

“Nah! Hush. Saber, tell me what happened.” you interrupted because you knew he was the far worse liar of the two, or more accurately, he was much less inclined to deceive you in any way shape or form.

He starts sweating, glancing at his fellow Servant who promptly arms himself with a notepad and pen, scribbling furiously.

“Well...we were, outside. Walking. There was this man…”

“And?”

Cu held up the paper. ‘He was from the post office, the company had made an error and sent the parcel to the wrong address. When they realised, they sent another set via express 24 hour delivery which is why it arrived at night.’ Diarmuid gestured with his hands. That was blatantly untrue, he couldn’t say that! He was avowed to never speak falsehoods into your ears...

“H-He...had a number of parcels on him. So, we took a look to see if yours was among them.” he stalled instead, because technically that was sort of what happened, they had looked for your particular mail order.

More frantic writing. ‘HE WAS FROM THE POST OFFICE. HE LET US SIGN FOR YOUR PACKAGE WHICH IS WHY WE HAVE IT HERE, BUT AS WE WERE DOING THAT SOMEONE TRIED TO STEAL THE OTHER PARCELS. WE CHASED DOWN THE CRIMINALS, LIE YOU COWARD OR WE’LL GET IN TROUBLE’

“Then...um, there was a criminal! He stole a whole bunch of parcels, we had to stop him.”

You stared at the wall behind them, eyes narrowed. Then, you leaned forward, petting Diarmuid’s hand and beckoning him closer.

“You wouldn’t use sophistry on me, right?” you asked quietly and he quickly shook his head, but Cu groaned, seeing that he was easily cracking under the non-existent pressure. “I have complete trust and faith in you that I know you would not betray for anything, especially not after I prepared this meal for us only to find--”

“A mail thief was stealing your eBay goods! He has been made to pay pecuniary penalties alongside other punishments, your parcel has also been retrieved! I attacked his car with my Noble Phantasm whilst fully informed that you would disapprove, I humbly request your forgiveness!” he blurts out in a rush, sinking down in shame and clinging to you desperately like this was a confessional.

“*Damn it you are the worst, Diarmuid.*”

“I see. Were there any witnesses?”

“Yes, only the mail robber.” declared your Servant swiftly, still hovering about your chair tentatively. “We only meant for you not to have your items stolen anymore, (Name). Please understand…”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No, (Name)...” 

“Thank you for your honesty, Diarmuid. As long as there isn’t evidence...I think we’ll be okay. I don’t want to police getting involved or anything.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, you were just worried about their criminal records apparently. He reached out uncertainty, but you let him shuffle closer so he took that as a good sign. You inclined your head to the seats, an invitation for them to start eating. Huh, that went better than he thought, Cu mused--

“Do you understand that destroying people’s property is illegal, even if they are thieves? In the future, serve the man a notice and report him to the authorities, submitted with evidence. I don’t want you guys getting tangled up in mage secrecy laws or the local force, okay? You used violence on a man who committed a non-violent crime.”

 _Yes, (Name)..._ they chimed in unison through your links.

“Also, we are going out tomorrow, and you shall carry with you pool noodles of shame in public. If anyone asks you why, you must tell them what you did wrong.”

\--*--

“Under the Crimes Act 1900, section 195 (1)-(1A), I may have been liable for up to 6 years imprisonment for reckless destruction of property, namely a motor vehicle had I been successfully convicted.” Diarmuid recites faultlessly, having written and practiced this speal while you slept. “It was wrong of me to employ unlawful methods of vengeance for the sake of a lost eBay mail package, even if it were likely to cause my lady distress.”

“*She literally cannot even see if we are following her rule. Why did you literally prepare a speech overnight. She just wanted us to say something about not stalking and ambushing people in their homes, even if they are mail thieves.*” Cu told him in Irish, watching flocks of women surround this supposed ‘lawyer’, enamoured by his fancy words and woeful expression as he pronounced his crimes from atop the marble water fountain.

It was so dramatic that the crowd thought he was re-enacting a play.

You definitely had not asked him to do that, but apparently his desire to impress you managed to manifest in the strangest of ways. Oh well, at least it saved him from having to explain _his_ children's toy. You weren’t even that annoyed, if you were he was sure you wouldn’t have gone off to buy them all a _taiyaki_ each to try.

“ _Therefore,_ ” he waved his pool noodle around for emphasis. “...it is in my interests as a responsible citizen and also loyal knight of my Master to abstain from such practices again in the future. In memory and recognition of this commitment, I now bear this cylindrical piece of buoyant polyethylene foam as a reminder of my sins. I endeavour not to disappoint or bring humiliation to my leige in the future by--”

Artoria appeared, walking hand in hand with Irisviel to see what the commotion was all about. She blinked in surprise at the scene. This hadn’t exactly been how she expected to be reunited with ‘Lancer’.

“Diarmuid? Is that you? What are you doing up there?”

Your Saber took a deep breath, started again from the top.

“Under the Crimes Act 1900--”

Cu deadpanned and checked his watch, this was going to be a long day.


	5. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Meeting Fionn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tags:** Blind!Reader, Domestic, Sequel content, Angst, Romantic Implications, Drama, Bitterness, Pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTINUES AVOIDING MAIN FIC PLOT LINE WITH SPINOFFS xD Also, Cu is busy working his 5 jobs during this so that's why he only gets a mention xD Thanks for the reviews by the way my two loyal readers of this series <3 I really like doing the funny comedy bits but I felt inspired to do this one today! Idk if I made Fionn too much of an asshole, but I literally quoted a lot of his FGO lines and tried to make his motivations/bitterness a bit more fleshed out...I mean, tbh I don't think he really loved Grainne since they had just met?? So idk why he'd ultra salt and bitterness on his old friend vs her but him actually loving Grainne is the only explanation I have for him being so...salty xD

“(Name), I’m home--!”

“Haha, well if it isn’t Diarmuid ‘ladykiller’ Ua Duibhne, the man of the hour!”

Saber freezes in the doorway, staring at his previous lord who was lounging about on the couch next to you, grinning like the last time they had made eye contact hadn’t been on his death bed amongst the rushes and reeds by that wellspring. He blinked, clenched his fists. His heart is battering behind it’s cage. He doesn’t know what to feel, to see his two leige’s side by side like this. He’d expected to come home just to you, hear you call him in greeting cheerfully when he stepped inside.

With Fionn here, the familiar soft lighting and fluffy cushions of your place seem tainted. Infected with the blight of his past. It seemed his fate had returned to haunt him to the last. He is filled with an inexplicable urge to grab you and run, doesn’t want to have to deal with all this again, dig into the painful memories of it all.

“My lord…” he says instead, dipping his head deferentially as you shift from the unexpected awkwardness in the air. “It has been too long.”

“Indeed, the moment I heard that you were back in town, I had to come see my best knight! It’s no surprise to me that your Master is such a fine young lady, you’ve always had an eye for beauty after all!” Fionn laughs openly, touching your leg even as your Servant stiffens and narrows his eyes. “The fact that you chose Grainne proves it.”

Diarmuid grits his teeth, snaps his head to the side to hide his expression. Chose? No, he didn’t get to ‘choose’ anything in his past, least of all his flight with his lord’s betrothed forced under geas. That he would bring it up again is exactly as he feared, he feels like he might drown, dragged back through the embers of his tragedy. His link with you flares as he remains silent.

“I was only joking, my apologies, it was a bit mean of me to say!” he amends quickly, still smiling despite the clear discomfort from his subordinate. “Mhm, but enough of that huh?”

Saber still says nothing, gaze distant, lost again, falling backwards in time.

“Ah, I forgot to ask, how is Gudao? Do you not have dinner with him and Mashu?” you interrupt with an airy chuckle, anxious at the tension through your bond.

“Oh (Name), so callous of you to remind me! It is there I am cursed once again with bad luck with women! Shielder, fetching and admirable as she is, has refused my propositions. To dine with them only invites misery, watching them render me a ‘third wheel’ as you say! So I much prefer to eat elsewhere.”

“I’m sure they would still appreciate your company--”

“But of course, this would never be an issue for Diarmuid, isn’t that right?” he teases loudly, as Saber winces even before he hears what comes next. “He could win the hearts of all the ladies with only a simple wink, just a sweet word! Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

He hates how he tries to drag you into it, takes a step forward. Not you, not after all the fire and all the demons he’s had to fight to have you here now, safe and sound. He won’t let him. 

“This may come as a shock my lord, but I'm actually not very good at talking to girls....” he responds shortly, halfway between sincerity and sarcasm.

“Why, is there someone you ARE good at talking to? Haha! I jest, I jest, that was a pretty good one though.” Fionn banters immediately, as if he’s had that retort stored within him for a while.

You exhale, agitated by how ruffled your Servant is and how cutting these remarks are, thinly veiling a deep jealousy and festering bitterness. But this Celtic Lancer is not the only one, you can feel it now, dripping drop by drop from within Diarmuid. Tiny flecks of dew rolling off blades of grass across open moors. Accumulating, molecule by molecule. There’s acerbity beneath his politeness whenever he mentions Grainne, it surges most though whenever your name is spoken, like it’s sulfur not gold in his eyes again. It takes you back, makes you remember his rage at Sola Ui from a lifetime ago, the yawning obsession within her, the poison in your veins, a flash of steel and that terrible, terrible agony--

“But come now, in all seriousness, I am glad to see you again! Let us leave the past as just memories, I’ll let go of all grudges in life!” he chimes amiably, clapping Saber on his shoulder. “May we have many battles together to come, for there is no greater joy than fighting side by side.”

“...Of course, my king.”

“Well, Lancer why don’t you come help me make dinner then if you’re sticking around? I’m thinking of making dumplings, Diarmuid can go pick up some extra ingredients that go great with this recipe!” you excuse, a transparent attempt at allowing your Servant a socially acceptable escape avenue.

“Nonsense! We’ve only just been reunited, food can wait! Besides, doesn’t Cu live here too? Have him buy it on the way back.”

“...If my lady wishes for me to acquire shallots and turnip greens, I must go.”

Fionn follows his gaze, the way he seems focused on you even when they are in conversation. He smirks a little, instantly wants to call him out on it and yet...He ought not to. He’s known Diarmuid long enough to see that this is different. That his loyalty is no longer with him, but with you. That it is much closer to love than any contract of obligation. Perhaps his first true fall, of his own volition and not born from the whims of desperate wives seeking agency in a world ruled by outdated culture and stigma.

You’re not quite like the the women he knows, there is no storm behind your eyes, not so much wildness within your heart that yearns to consume, like a fire, to tear through life voraciously as lightning rips up the sky. No, you are more akin to the mountains and sheer seaside cliffs, which infernos could not mar for long. That wind and rain could shape, but not destroy. It’s not an effortless peace, but one built stone by stone. He thinks he can see why someone like his knight would be drawn to this, when he peers past your sightless eyes, looks beyond the blind magus without love for violence.

Still, he can’t help himself. Feels a swell of envy that clashes with his fondness for a time when they had still raced across the fields as brothers in arms, body’s young and spirits free. Before Grainne, before he was tied down by politics, burdened with kingship. He longed for the days spent under the pelting rain and sun, the life of a knight with regard for little beyond the thrill of the next battle, the clash of spears, tang of blood…

He wondered if Diarmuid would ever understand that, knew it was selfish to demand such sympathy at all.

But he’s flawed, despite claiming perfection. And wouldn’t it be ironic if he could just...make him comprehend, if only for a second--

He struts to your side, smarmy and confident when he slings an arm over your shoulder, leans in close. Your Servant tenses, breath hitching as if fighting some internal war over what he should do. As if his former commitment and pledge to his lord is physically tearing at the seams, grappling and struggling against his protective need to ensure you feel always safe and unharassed in his presence. 

Diarmuid jerks forward, just one step, when he sees how you pull away, genuinely nervous now. Those gilded eyes do not leave yours. 

You cough. Do they know each other well enough for these quips to pass? Their emotions are chaotic, leaving you unsure whether this is something you should interfere with, whether you should even be here. You thought perhaps they would be excited to see each other after separation, even contemplated if he would rush to serve the one he had in life. Thus, you had been respectful to your unannounced guest, given that Diarmuid had told you previously that he held no resentment for the method of his passing. Yet...it seemed that like rain, these long buried and forgotten grievances crashed back down when the clouds rolled in.

“Dear (Name), I do believe that our good guy here has a crush on a-~”

“*Fionn, stop.*”

Diarmuid’s words in ancient Irish are quiet, almost inaudible but Fionn can see the way his jaw is clenched, how his nails are digging into his palms as if they might be grasp Moralltach and Beagalltach rather than air. He’d called him by his first name, not his title. Actually commanded something of him. It didn’t matter that this sentence was whispered, tone plain and flat. He did not mistake the direness behind them, as if something had finally broken. That should he decide to continue poking fun, it would not end well for either of them.

Fionn’s smirk does not slip, but his grip on you does, hand falling to his side. He thinks of Grainne, of how she was the catalyst that tore the knights of Fianna asunder, lead ultimately to his death. He shuts his eyes. 

_Do you want to leave?_

Saber twitches, for a second interpreting this question as you asking him whether he wishes to return to his previous leige. It makes him want to scream, to think that he might still be able to lose you after everything it’s taken to get here. He breathes out, calms himself. 

No, he doesn’t want to run. Not any more. He wants Fionn to go, to cease needling him with these irreverent references to a tragedy he has left behind. He needs this chapter to close. Wants to heal, move on. Then, when his old friend is ready, when he’s stopped bathing in those accursed ashes, he wants to reconcile. To be able to look at his former leige again without the taste of dust on his tongue.

Fionn chuckles, watching him from the corner of his eye. There’s no mirth in his grin this time. It hurts, doesn’t it Diarmuid? When someone even lays a finger on the one you love, do you know what it is like when they take them? He turns casually, heads for the exit, pausing only once to glance over his shoulder. 

“*It was good to catch up.*”

The door slams shut. 

Diarmuid can see you standing there, shifting your weight from foot to foot apprehensively in the long silence. He hesitates, then closes the distance between you two in a few quick strides, embraces you to him like you might fade if he lets go. You return his hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck worriedly as he sits down, clutching his lifeline to his chest. His heartbeat is erratic, and he holds onto the luminescence of your bond, grounds himself to the only song that he knows. You’re soft and warm in his arms, familiar and lovely, uncomplicated contentment, simple comfort. But he's greedy, still wants more, longs for you to--

“Are you alright?”

He doesn’t reply, just tightens his hold.


	6. No Pairing (Vacuum cleaners and Banana Bunkers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tags:** Blind!Reader, Domestic, Sequel content, Comedy, Adventures of Cu and Diarmuid in the modern world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing for that niche need xD Myself and whoever else is on this rowboat of a line xD Welcome, I have no idea what these fics are xD
> 
> Tbh, I don't think Cu is that into pranking people in canon, but for the purposes of this fic, I like the idea that he interacts with Reader this way. Since Reader's personality in this is self assured (so he doesn't feel the need to be more gentle) but quite 'soft' and calm. I don't think he would have felt comfortable being mischievous to a lot of the canon chars I guess, but its hard to tell since he got really short changed on close relationships in the anime xD I think Reader's passivity and dislike for violence also wouldn't mesh great with Cu sometimes too, but with Diarmuid there it's balanced a bit since the two can spar with each other and get up to other adventures xD
> 
> I've given up on titling these chapters by character, its no pairing essentially aside from Saber's obvious crush that I'm just never going to address xD

“Why have you done this, Cu? Do you not see that is would cause significant inconvenience to our Master who works hard to provide for us amenities? Who patiently teaches us how to do household chores even if we do accidentally set her kitchen on fire?”

Lancer groaned, watching Saber laboriously search the house for your phone. He’d replaced it with a chocolate replica while you were sleeping, wanted to see how long it took for you to figure it out, was going to let you go to the shops to try and get it ‘fixed’ and all...He’d also done a bunch of other little things, but Diarmuid ‘can’t lie to (Name) and must overprotectively baby her’ Ua Duibhne didn’t need to know that.

“Hey, at least I pay rent and do the ironing in this house.” he retorted as the other Servant grew still, a troubled look crossing his face.

His shoulders slumped as he actually abandoned his fruitless quest (Cu had your smart phone in his pocket after all). How thoughtless of him to not find work now that it was peacetime. Your rules against flower selling had been to not draw attention during the Grail war, but that wasn’t a concern anymore. He ought to be bringing back some cash to help out with the bills or at least taking care of some of the chores beyond shadowing you around all day to work and back. 

Yet what if you were attacked? With the number of Servants around, familiar worry always seemed to gnaw at him if you were even so much as 5 minutes late to agreed appointments. If the likes of Archer were prowling the streets, surely it meant that Caster or Assassin were not an impossibility?

“You are right. I should be making contributions.” he said despondently nonetheless, arming himself with the nearby vacuum cleaner. “I will begin immediately.”

He jumped when the suction started up, loud and cacophonous. Frantically, he tried to turn it off as not to disturb your slumber as Cu laughed, finally stepping forward to help him when he was met with his annoyed look. In all honesty, Lancer hadn’t ever used this device before either, mostly sticking to mops and such if he had to clean anything. However, he had seen you use it in the past. He was fairly sure you emptied the bin first…?

“I think you’re supposed to do something like this…”

\--*--

“Kariya, I don’t know what happened! It was just here, but now I can’t find it.”

The two of you were in your living room, looking high and low for your ‘real’ phone, given that you had just been informed that the one you were trying to use was a chocolate replica. It was lucky he had decided to come over today, because if not you would still be trying to check your messages on a block of confectionary. You had also complained that you couldn’t find your Dyson cleaner, which was significantly harder to misplace… Kariya had no idea how that had happened. Then again, this journalist was used to Artoria and Medusa, both far too serious and dedicated to their respective Masters to pull such shenanigans. He nibbled on a piece of the chocolate you two had decided to share.

“Sorry, but I think it’s a lost cause. Maybe your Servants have seen it? Where are Cu and Diarmuid anyway?”

“Who knows, they’re like Pretzel, show up for dinner to eat but other than that, just come and go as they please. Well, Cu at least. Diarmuid’s more like that cat before he’s been fed, likes to follow me around, so it’s quite odd that he’s not here. But if I had to guess where they are now, probably off dishing out vigilante justice onto some unsuspecting civilians…”

“Ah...is that related to why you have an open firepit in your backyard?”

“...No, that’s because I banned them from cooking indoors.”

\--*--

Shirou jumps a foot in the air when a certain Lancer abruptly appears in front of him, wind whipping past sharply as if he only just skidded to a stop shy of bowling him over. He tenses, mouth open to protest already--

“Hey, so how are you today?” he asks with a grin, before promptly continuing on before he has a chance to reply. “So, you know how to repair heaters, pipes and...vacuum cleaners, right?”

“Uh...yeah, sorry but I’ve got stuff to do today and--”

“Don’t be like that!” insisted Cu quickly, grabbing onto his shoulder in case he decided to run. “It’ll just be for a little while! Besides, it’s for (Name), didn’t Saber ever tell you that they were allies in the last war?”

“Wasn’t that event really traumatic for her? Didn’t she die half way through fighting a former knight of hers?”

“Didn’t you die even before you summoned a Servant? So clearly the past is over!”

“I ‘died’ because _you_ stabbed me with Gáe Bolg!”

“Details! You’re alive now so _come’on_!”

Shirou glanced to the side, trying to sidle out of his grip. It wasn’t happening. Somehow, he doubted that he would be able to escape this request unless he somehow managed to distract him with a smoke bomb. He sighed. What a strange day, just earlier he had caught sight of a weird man carrying pool noodles and forlornly attempting to sell flowers to raise money for a new vacuum cleaner too. He was also loudly repenting his crimes of breaking his ‘lady’s’ household appliances and dodging rent fares.

In fact, he can still hear him wandering about in the distance from here. At least his business seemed to be going well though, if the crowds of women following him about were any indication. He shuts his eyes.

“...Okay, let’s go.”

\--*--

“Oh my gosh, aren’t you that meme?!”

Diarmuid paused in his speech, shifting the enormous number of bouquets of wildflowers in his arms as the woman snapped a picture. He stiffened, turning his face away even if he had control of his Love Spot’s curse now. The group gabbed excitedly at the idea that he was someone ‘famous’, some kind of supermodel.

“I cannot attest to being the ‘meme’ you speak of, all I can certify currently if that I have once again, disappointed my dear lady with my inability to competently wield her vacuum cleaner that now lies in pieces. As such, I require funds to procure her a new one. I would be much obliged if you could kindly contribute to this endeavour by purchasing some flowers.” he responded politely, as she rummaged about in her purse.

“Hey, can I buy a pool noodle from you instead?” she asked, seemingly amused by the bizarre nature of his wares.

He shook his head.

“These foam toys are a reminder of my mistakes, I must carry them as my burden. In any case, I detest to part with any item that my Master has granted me.” he explains as the people stare, confused. “They are symbolic--”

“There he is. Gods, stop that, and get rid of those ridiculous things.” Cu called, towing Shirou along as he made a detour to pick up his wayward ally first. “You’re going to give us all secondhand embarrassment at this rate.”

“...Too late for that.” muttered his magus companion under his breath, as the two Servants had a brief tug-of-war over the pool noodles, Diarmuid refusing to give them up as Cu finally decided that it wasn’t worth it. 

Fine, let him make a fool of himself, didn’t look like it was affecting his ability to get dates anyway...

“Eh, so how much did you manage to scrounge--” Cu stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Saber’s money pouch in shock. “Are you robbing these people, how do you have so much?!”

“As you can see, I am clearly not extorting anyone...my flowers are and have always been pay what you want.” huffed Diarmuid is response, offended at the suggestion that he were in any way similar to a ‘mail thief’. “I do not know how much the vacuum we accidentally destroyed costs, but I intend to compensate (Name) fully...with an additional 15% inconvenience fee.”

“...Okay.” he mutters, leaving him and his unfathomable logic as they were. “Well, I have a better solution that doesn’t require you to Google how to do basic mental maths later. It’s called paying Shirou here, some money to fix the vacuum.”

“I see, then you have my gratitude. I’m glad that Artoria has been summoned by such a noble and compassionate magus. We are in your debt.”

“Um..sure, yeah it’s no problem.”

\--*--

“You better go check in with (Name)...she’s having an episode.”

Cu’s greeting to Kariya died on his tongue as Diarmuid bolted off towards the kitchen where he could sense your presence. Oh right, he remembered what he had done now…but one problem at a time. First, Shirou to the vacuum.

“(Name)?” Saber approached your slumped form, as you whipped your head up from the countertop, pointing an accusing finger at him so quickly that it made him flinch.

“Did you have fun, huh? Desecrating the sanctity and hygiene standards of my kitchen? Then stealing my beloved vacuum cleaner and phone?” you ask, tone trembling tumultuously as he rushes to your side, fingers skimming your arms to try and shield you from your problems. “I bought those bananas a few days ago, _explicitly_ mentioned that I intended to make banana bread and _this_ is what you have done to them?!”

“(Name), I promise you that I did nothing to your produce.” he vows solemnly, not taking his eyes off yours for a second.

If he had, he might have noticed all the weird objects you’d chucked into the sink. Namely, large numbers of Groupon’s Banana Bunkers that seemed to be filled with some kind of sludge.

“Please, allow me leave and I will go and acquire more bananas and/or banana bread for you.” he pleads quietly, as you wave away his offer dramatically.

“No, no it’s too late…” you tell him, back of your hand against your forehead theatrically as you gesture. “They’re already lost. They’ve been reduced to...that after leaking from where they were hidden, all over my shelves and cutting boards. Kariya and I spent ages cleaning it all up...”

He finally turns to look at the offending plastic containers. He does not understand. But they clearly are not bananas, which you seem to desire right now. They seem to be messy and filled with muck, which he assumes is what has you so upset given that your kitchen is normally spotless. He embraces you reassuringly, before narrowing his eyes. Ah yes, Cu finds it amusing to ‘prank’ you this way...to needlessly cause you distress.

“Rest assured dear (Name), that I will speak to our other housemate about this development.”

He needn’t go out and drag the obvious perpetrator to court though, as said Lancer pops in all by himself. Diarmuid rounded on him like an angry wolf.

“Are you pleased now, Child of Light? That you have brought this discord into our humble abode?” he snapped, hugging you closer. “Look at the strife you have wrought, at the food you have wasted!”

“What?” he spied all of his Banana Bunkers in the sink, filled with some kind of yellow and brown squish that he assumed to be the remains of the bananas he had placed in there. “Wait, I only put all your intact bananas in the cases, I didn’t mash them like that…”

“Well how did they get destroyed then? They’re unusable now!” you protested, making a show of wiping ~~fake~~ tears of frustration away to make Saber _ultra_ sympathetic.

Cu peered at them uncertainly, edging around Diarmuid who was glaring at him acidly, wondering whether he really did manage to do that to your bananas. All he had done was taken your bunch and put the individual bananas into a Bunker each, he thought you would have been so confused as to what these objects strewn all over your kitchen were given that from their shape and size alone, they would have been easy to mistake for...personal items. Was the product indeed faulty? He was starting to feel a bit bad now for making you wipe everything up if they had leaked as you said. Plus, he had just inadvertently made them miss out on free banana bread.

“...Oh, I’m sorry. I thought they were just to stop the bananas from bruising when people packed them for travel. Here’s your phone...I’ll make it up to you, promise!” he admits guiltily, as you huff, nodding. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the cafe, you can order whatever you like and I’ll pay.”

You extricate yourself from Diarmuid hold and skulk back to the couch, trailed by your two Servants. Cu shuts his eyes, can tell that even if you won’t lecture or make him eat tofu salads for the next two days like the time he got into a fight with Emiya Archer, that Saber won’t let this slip. He’ll be lurking around his room tonight with his pool noodles and some kind of sermon. 

“Thank you, but there’s no need Cu...because I was joking. The bananas didn’t explode, I just wanted you to know how it felt for once.” you revealed with a grin, plopping down on the couch as he stares. “The fruits are fine, Kariya helped me fabricate the muck illusion in those Banana Bunker things, haha! Wasn’t that great?”

For a second he is speechless. 

Then, he breathed out in both relief and exasperation, to think he believed you... Of course some plastic cases couldn’t have done that, but you really had become a method actor for this scene. But he supposed that the repayment was fair, if not risky given that the last time he had stressed you out ‘unnecessarily’ it had resulted in him being chased around by a certain someone wielding Moralltach and Beagalltach. He smiled, tossing himself down next to you with a smile.

So it seemed that after a year of jokes, you had finally decided to reciprocate. He liked that.

“Well as far as first tricks go, you got me pretty good. I’ll have to keep an eye on you from now on, hm?”

“Maybe!” you agreed cheekily, before grabbing his hand. “But seriously, where is my vacuum cleaner…?”


	7. Alters (Festival Days)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially given up on making this trash pile legible, I don't know what title system etc. I should use and nothing is organised, chronologically or otherwise xD But some of my takes on the Alter boiss, just trying to feel out their personalities before we get onto another long haul fic. This dump is like my sketchpad for random ideas xD Nothing is good or edited on here but its whatever right? xD

“During this festival people write their wishes on paper slips and hang them from bamboo trees like this.” you chirp, one hand on Avenger Diarmuid’s elbow and the other on Berserker Cu’s.

The fact that they even tolerate this is a testament to the amount of leeway they afford you, but of course this is not something you could have known. All you knew was that something terrible must have happened to Lancer on the Throne, and that the legendary Cu Chulainn detested himself.

It makes you terribly sad, but they avoid talking about it with you. Instead, you mostly try to take them to events so they don’t spend their time plotting vengeance or sulking in their rooms. Your bond still blazes between you, and most of the time you use it to assure them that they are cared for, trusted and loved. You understand that these things will take time, do your best to support them emotionally.

_May the rest of this year be filled with success and peace, and that all of us may live in harmony. May my Servants find happiness and contentment._

You scribble down your own hopes as best you can, carefully connecting the lines. It will be messy, but you want to give it a try.

You know that even if they don’t write down their thoughts, they will likely still cross their minds where you will be able to sense their dreams through their bond. As expected, their words start drifting across your mind.

_May they roast in the pits of hell, but not before they materialise here on this earth so that I might rip their hearts out through their throats for their treachery--_

O-kay. You decide not to listen into Berserker’s desires if this is the caliber of wishes that Alters went for. You tighten your grip on Diarmuid’s arm.

“Maybe we should ask for something positive!” you interrupt as he nearly rolls his eyes, why bother asking for what they want if you weren’t going to accept it?

“Mhm, what shall I say then, dear (Name)? I pray that those who have wronged me live fruitfully because I am an all-forgiving paragon of virtue?” he responds sardonically as you sigh, slipping your hand from him. “People deserve to be punished for their crimes, to know that their actions have consequences. It is as you say, karma. I am here to deliver it.”

“I just--nevermind. Let’s go get something to eat, hm? You guys like meat right? Smells like they’re selling yakitori!”

Upon the suggestion of food, Cu immediately begins leading you over to the aforementioned stall. 

Diarmuid narrows his eyes. Because even after all this time, he still hates disappointing you. But you’re naive if you think that the world is kind, and that it would reward you for compassion and forgiveness. No, not after what they’ve done to him, what they’ve done to _you_. He’s seen it, knows the cruelty of his timeline even if you don’t. That you should pardon their transgressions for the sake of your beliefs or time rankles, makes resentment surge through his veins. That you would refuse to seek justice. To know that you would not have avenged his death had he fallen first...

“Nearly didn’t recognise you there, ladykiller!”

You freeze, digging your heels in as Berserker impatiently stops, that he should be disrupted in his quest for chicken skewers… Even blind as you are, something is roiling through your link. Surprise, animosity, loathing, excitement.

“My lord, it has been too long.” Diarmuid purrs, tone betraying none of his intent as he faces his former leige.

“Indeed! Ah, is that your Master? Of course they’d be a pretty maiden, you’ve always had an eye for beauty, hm? Grainne proved that much!”

“Did she? I hardly recall choosing her at all...why if I had to say, it was _you_ who selected her as a bride, tied a young woman to the aging man that you were then. And it was _she_ who forced me to flee with her under geas. Between the two of you, why I don’t remember having _any_ agency at all!”

“Yes...well, who could resist such a bewitching face such as your own, hm?”

“My mistake, oh leige! I should have worn a potato sack over my head during your ceremony! How careless, how irreverent of me! I do hope you can grant me a modicum of forgiveness in your infinite capacity as a benevolent king!”

This other Lancer shifts uncomfortably now, shoulders tense. He can tell that Diarmuid is seething, sarcastic and furious. You take a step forward warily as Avenger’s voice slices across your connection.

_Stay out of this._

“Well, that’s all in the past now. Let’s leave it behind.” he finally says, laughing. “There’s--”

“That is not for you to decide.” Diarmuid replies quietly, coldly. “Did you think I would simply allow you to flounce from this place unscathed?”

Silence stretches on between them, Lancer unsure whether he was being threatened, by his subordinate of all people, who had been nothing but deferential even in his final moments back then. Diarmuid gives a bark of laughter, harsh and bitter.

“Confused? Allow me to clarify the situation...anytime I see your insufferable, smug face, I am going to attempt to carve your lungs out through your chest.”

“...Excuse m--?”

There’s a loud crack as knuckles make impact across his face before he finishes. You give a startled yelp as the two of them crash onto the ground, yelling as your Servant attempts to rip him to pieces with his bare hands. The people around jump away, panicking at the brutal spectacle.

“Stop! Stop it Diarmuid!” you rushed forward, trying to pull him off Fionn but you might as well have been the nearby bamboo tree, a mere observer.

He ignores you, shucking you away occasionally when you are at risk of being hit by their frenzied touselling. You can tell that Gudao’s Servant is getting thrashed, instinctively knit close his wounds and ease his pain.

_Heal him more (Name), I want to tear him apart **again and again**!_

“Cu!” 

Berserker turned to you indifferently, vaguely watching Avenger beat the crap out of the other Servant, grin adorning his handsome features as he taunts him in ancient Irish. Red stains the ground beneath them. He could describe the scene, as you asked them to sometimes...but it would probably distress you. It was none of his business anyway, his job was to keep you safe and win battles. Given that there was no current war though, both goals were practically self-fulfilling and his days were spent gallivanting through the nearby mountains and gorging himself on your cooking. Speaking of which...you had annoyingly recently listened to some accursed health podcast regarding the ‘benefits of cabbages’ and condemned them all to vegetables in the name of ‘balanced nutrition’. He’d since promptly removed that program from your devices and refused to give it back.

_I wish my Master would cease her vegetarian weekdays scheme, and buy more jerky snacks…_

“Help him!”

“There is no need, Diarmuid’s doing just fine on his own.” he replies evenly, and that was true, his ally was certainly in no need of assistance.

“I meant Fionn! He’s getting injured!” you plead as he huffs, hoping you would give him some cash for yakitori already.

But he suspected that there would be no grilled meat sticks for anyone if Fionn died here, so strolling forward, he grabbed Avenger and pulled him up. Diarmuid shoves him off, gaze venomous and violent as he snarls out threats he is trying to make good on. You crouch by the blonde Servant, restoring him to his former state as he sits up, coughing the blood from his mouth bitterly. He gets to his feet, glowering.

Cu uses this momentary distraction to start fishing for coins from your pocket, rewarding himself for breaking the two of them up.

“Diarmuid, don’t--”

But there’s a fluttering through your mana as you feel Gáe Dearg and Moralltach formed. Hatred and viciousness is leaking through your bond as you make your decision. You cut his supply, forcing him abruptly into spirit form as shock and fury radiate from your familiar. Fionn leaves without another word at this development, storming off. Seeing as to how you aren’t at risk of being caught up in the scuffle anymore, Cu promptly wanders off in search of his chicken as you stand there, feeling more alone than ever. 

You’d never seen him lose control like that before...you could tell he was hurting but he’d still been polite to you, considerate and protective. Nothing like this, spitting poison and desperate for the hearts of his enemies. No doubt he’d be angry with you later for pulling the plug on him so to speak, but you didn’t even want to think about dealing with that right now. You shut your eyes.

Unfolding your cane, you start the long walk home.

\--*--

You stop by the park, tapping your way to the nearby bench and crumpling down onto it. You wipe your eyes a little. This has all been a mistake, surely it must have been for you to have summoned him in this form, for you to have contracted yourself two Alters. You didn’t want this. All you had wanted was to see your old friend again, to provide the restless Berserker with some freedom instead of being bound within the confines of Chaldea all the time. To allow them the opportunity to see the world without being forced to fight in some gruesome tournament. Yet, here you were. Struggling to keep them from murdering people right in front of you.

Cu plops down next to you, as the seat sinks under his weight. You jump a little at his presence, not having heard him following.

“I’m not a suitable Master for you two, am I?” you ask softly, as he grunted non committedly, nursing his collection of chicken skewers.

You feel something shoved into your hand, taking it instinctively. It’s an ear of grilled corn, and even though Berserker took your money to buy it, you still feel appreciative for the gesture. The fact that he had seemingly picked a vegetarian option was thoughtful too, given that you had decided to try and change your diets to be more healthy recently.

“Thanks…”

He doesn’t respond. You could hear him gnawing away, sharp teeth catching on the wooden sticks as you munch on your own cob miserably. Diarmuid is somehow even more irritated now, stewing on his festering rage ~~and jealousy~~ , trying to materialise as he glares at the two of you from beyond the material world. Why couldn’t you understand?! He had since learned that loyalty was a fleeting thing but to see you seek even a minor degree of comfort in Berserker makes envy cut through his ire. Was he not the one to guide you on a daily basis? To have fought with you in that infernal Grail war? Yet you would shove him aside and sit with this half-man half-beast creature instead of him?! He doesn’t deserve your attentions, and Diarmuid _hates_ even having to “share”--

You consider closing your bond because his fury is blistering, tiring. But that would only make things worse. All that bitterness...he’d kept it under wraps too well, you wonder what else he’s been hiding from you. It must be a perk of his Divinity, this unrestrained gamble for power he’s taken. To be brought forth as the son of Donn, raised by Aenghus Óg and with all the strength of a demigod, not a mere human any longer...

Cu chucks his trash away, lounging there under the streetlamp as you continue with your own snack. You’d expected him to head back on his own already, but instead he waits. You take a deep breath. What a mess, you’d better enroll them in therapy sessions or something. You stand, facing him in an unspoken question. Your hand is held out tentatively, and he takes it, leading you the rest of the way back.


	8. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Grocery Shopping)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, I want to end this on poly-eventually but I’m not sure how to get there at this point xD I think it would be a fairly balanced poly relationship, since they each have traits they like about each other. Also, having a shared mental bond helps >> I think that Cu - Dia connection will happen before the Cu - Reader tbh, although both would definitely be long hauls in transitioning from friendship.
> 
> Cu: angry on the outside, but chill on the inside so cools down quick as well. Dia: cool on the outside, but kind of angry on the inside so once he hits rage point, may take a while to chill again. But both of them have a propensity to flip and rage in a fight. And this Reader is generally chill on the outside and inside xD

“Is this guy for real?? By the gods that’s the cringiest thing I have ever _seen_!”

“I don’t know why you even watch that show if you know it’ll get you all riled up.” you tell Cu from where you’re sipping tea by the counter. 

He’s lounged out in front of your TV, stuffing his face with snacks and glued to some dating show he’d recently been absorbed into. You were surprised to find that he even knew what ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ meant, Artoria hadn’t so you suspected that Lancer had spent some time familiarising himself with modern lingo. But then again, Diarmuid hadn’t asked you for the definition ages ago either so maybe Irish warriors got it on their Grail supplied vocab list but British kings didn’t. You chuckled, wondering if he had been using ‘PlentyofFish’ in his free time in a bid for a partner, but then remembering that he didn’t have a phone and mooched your number for interviews and stuff.

“...I don’t understand what they are trying to do.” Diarmuid finally piped up from next to you, confused as to why they were giving these quicktime descriptions of themselves and their interests.

Was it similar to this ‘LinkedIn’ website that you and Cu had set up for him? He remembered you two having a minor squabble over what was classified as employable skills as he skulked around in the background, trying to think of modern day jobs that he would like to do as you had tasked him to brainstorm. 

_“I can’t believe you made my profile endorse all your skills on that trainwreck of a profile you’ve created…Battle Continuation, Divinity and destroying armies aren’t employable expertises!”_

_“You’re just jealous of my three jobs, obviously it works, or else how would I be maintaining a steady income stream?”_

_“By your employers not checking your LinkedIn, clearly...”_

“They win a date to the Aegean sea with the person on screen.” you reply as he blinked, remembering this term being mentioned in the past back before the Fourth Holy Grail War.

He hadn’t known what it meant then and he didn’t know what it meant now. He squinted, watching the two of them hold hands at the end of each round before giving a short speal about how lucky they were and that they hadn’t expected their companion to pick them. Yes...he remembered that plane tickets were expensive, but could only two people qualify for the trip? What a shame to all the other contestants then, but at least it looked like they stuck around for another round so maybe they all eventually got a chance to fly. You had since wandered off into the neighbouring room to collect something.

“What does ‘dating’ mean?”

“Huh? You don’t--?” Cu grinned, swiftly scanning the area to make sure you were out of earshot, increasing the volume on the remote and speaking quietly just to make sure. “‘Dating’ is a socially acceptable way to invite someone to be your friend in this day and age. A formal request for acquaintanceship, so you might ask a stranger ‘if they would like to date you’. Honestly, its a good way to build up your network since you’re new to the city.”

“Really? I suppose having more contacts would be useful, I will do so on our next outing.” he mused, having worked out for himself at this stage that it had something to do with friendship.

That article from so long ago made sense now, it would have been natural for those meme writers to assume that he was your friend.

“Yeah! Definitely, how do you think I got so many connections on my profile?” he said airily, not mentioning that he had merely added everyone who had any connection to you.

With that, Cu changed the channel so that his ruse wouldn’t be revealed.

\--*--

“Would you like to date me?”

You look up in confusion, continuing to bag your groceries as you wonder who Saber is talking to. It’s not you, because he makes sure to touch your shoulder or say your name to let you know he’s referring to you. But there are only two other people present. Cu, and the friendly retired grandfather who is currently managing the cash register, who Diarmuid is staring at. Surely he wouldn’t ask so blatantly in public like this if he were talking to either you or Cu? Maybe someone beautiful had caught his eye in the queue…? But _him_ , spontaneously propose like this?

“I think I’m a little old for you, son.” he jokes as you laugh as well, Lancer busying himself with carrying the produce and biting back his own mirth.

“Ah, my apologies. I didn’t realise that age was a factor.”

You shake your head as the three of you leave, thinking that Cu was rubbing off on him if he was saying such strange things. You know that your blue Lancer was fond of calling women ‘young’ even if they were well past their primes to be flattering. You suppose it was to be nice, and Diarmuid tried very hard to be the goodest boi.

“...So what are the restrictions then? I thought this applied to any stranger?” Diarmuid asks abruptly as Lancer smiles reassuringly.

“It does, guess you just weren’t that guy’s type!”

“What is this?” you interjected suspiciously.

“Our good housemate here is trying to get a date!”

You blink, surprised. This was news to you, he hadn’t seemed to show any interest before but you supposed that it was not so shocking. Your Servants were both young and fit, surely they would be interested in getting around. You had expected this from Cu frankly, given how flirty some of his comments could be but Saber? You would find it hilarious if he managed to get a date before Lancer (who tried very hard sometimes). This was a prodigious landmark moment for him then. He must truly have overcome all his reservations of others not looking beyond the surface of his appearance, have complete confidence in his control of his Love Spot.

“Wow, well congratulations!” you announce brightly as he tilts his head. “Maybe hang out at some cafe’s instead of ambushing people trying to do chores though.”

“Are such locations more conducive?”

“I’d say so, if you want to meet people ‘organically’. You could even try some dating sites! Make a profile for yourself and all that jazz.” you tap your fingers, glancing to the side for a second. “Do you know what kind of traits you like?”

He perked up. This was a question he could answer at least, after feeling out of his depth for the last few minutes. 

“I would like someone who is like you.” he professes openly as Cu starts feeling bad for how far this trick is going.

“That’s kind of you to say--”

“Okay, okay...Diarmuid, dating doesn’t actually mean what I told you.” he admits guiltily before this can go any further. “Dating is essentially, how can I put it? Marriage Lite, trialling a romantic relationship before committing fully, typically exclusively. People do that now, back in our day we just hung around the person we liked before putting a ring on it or we were forced into unions but these days, you can see if you think it would work out by going on dates first. I guess the purpose is having a period where you work out whether you love someone.”

“...Ah, I should have known this was your doing, Cu.” you sighed as he dodged the accusing cane swung in his direction. “What if he had asked someone who had accepted? Someone would have their feelings played with--”

Saber shifted his gaze, and inevitably they landed on his beloved. He did still want to go on a date, with it’s new amended dictionary meaning in his brain. He wanted to have a romantic relationship with his dearest Master, to be together with them for all the rest of his days that he might bring them happiness and honour, to travel the world together and marry them-- He knew that you agreeing to his proposal would certainly grant him limitless joy, alas if only life were a fairytale... He exhaled.

Back during the last war, he had rationalised that it was a lot to ask of you after only two months, even if you had been through the inferno during that time. He had been destined to perish as well, and as much as love overcame, to tie yourself to tragedy would have been most painful. No, he understood your decision. Still, it made him hesitant to reach out again, in case it changed your dynamics in any way or worse...he was declined again. Just the notion makes his heart wilt, it’s selfish but he can’t help it, wants you to be content but wants it to be _him_ that makes you so. To think you might come to cherish someone more than him after it all--

Your fingers wrap around his elbow as he places his hand over yours instantly, holds onto you a touch desperately, wrenched from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry he mislead you, Diarmuid. But I’ve chewed him out for it now, at least he didn’t let it get out of hand. Let’s go home, hm?”

“Of course, (Name)...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN SEE MY VIEWS GO UP SO I KNOW PEOPLE ARE LURKING OR JUST CLICKING IDK xD, SHOUTOUT AND THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO'VE COMMENTED <3 THIS IS FOR YOU xD


	9. Poly-relationship (Headcanons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments! <3 Decided to just dump my ideas here as headcanons because its easier than going prose, plus I get to explore their poly dynamic without actually having to flesh out the long haul to get there xD Do people prefer this style or prose? I'm thinking of doing some headcanons for either yandere versions or their Alters, not sure at this point but feel free to vote below xD I don't want to say I'm open for requests but if people want to mention something they'd be interested in reading I'm all ears!

**Saber Diarmuid:**

  * Overprotective™, if he senses a disturbance in the force, he is going to materialise himself right there to defend either your honour or Cu’s. Mostly yours, because Cu is usually already in the process of defending himself verbally or physically before anyone else gets the chance.
  * Is absolutely ride or die together, will be on your side even if you’re wrong because his partners are never wrong and he trusts them 150%. Even if he doesn’t agree, he’ll still commit so feel free to turn evil or anything, he’ll be there regardless.
  * That being said, he’s loyal and all but kind of bad at comebacks. He’ll try and it will be _cringe_. Best leave him at home if your debate tournament is about anything other than battle tactics and dueling.
  * “(Name) is pure and too good for this world??? And Cu is the greatest hero in Irish history--!” will get emotional over being with the two most wonderful people in the world.
  * Once he gets started talking about you two...hoo boy, strap in for the long haul because he also spends his free time writing up speeches/serenades. This applies to you two, he practices on you if it’s about Cu and vice versa until you two made him just say it all in one go ~~”we love you Diar but we have things to do…”~~
  * He and Cu share a love for hiking and the outdoors, Diarmuid is generally the one to carry you when you get tired because NORMAL PEOPLE CAN’T TREK THAT FAST FOR THAT LONG. Secretly likes having you rely on him like that though, so maybe walks a bit quicker than normal…
  * If it's just Cu and him though, they will race and blitz through the trails. They get rather competitive with each other, but all in good fun. Appreciates having someone that speaks his native tongue.
  * They were both looking for a good fight in their Grail wars so yes, routinely spar and make a _huge_ mess of your backyard which is TOO SMALL TO CONTAIN YOUR SHENANIGANS, GUYS PLEASE. They had to clean up your garden afterwards and were banished to the local park where people gather to watch. 
  * They tend to use their Noble Phantasms, with their abilities sealed of course so that you don’t have to add “unhealable wounds” to your list of weekend woes.
  * Dotes, absolutely dotes on you. It’s bad, if he were any less well mannered he’d practically be approaching “Entitled ~~Parent~~ Partner-hood”. Fluffs around you like a mother hen so it goes without saying, he can be clingy.
  * If you or Cu mention anything, he will rush out to try and acquire it. Yes, “acquire” and not buy because this boy is just the worst at finances, so is still parading around as the local flower man when he wishes to purchase anything. Cash is understandable, bank accounts are not. 
  * Has a job as a mountain bike tour guide, but didn’t know how to ‘get the money out of the computer’. Moving savings to get the best interest rates? Shares? ETFs? Basic Excel sheet accounting? Yeah, you’d have better luck speaking to him in a foreign language. He is condemned to a debit card only because it’s far too dangerous to let him _near_ a credit card.
  * Carries said debit card in a lanyard around his neck, has a little leather holder for it that you guys gifted to him. Takes ‘don’t lose this’ too seriously and sleeps with it on, cannot believe it _”is the key to all the money that I have earned to date and will earn in the future??”_. Yeah, his understanding of modern bank accounts is akin to leprechaun hordes.
  * Still, he’s the best hire the company ever made because suddenly _flocks_ of women are clamouring to see if the local celebrity is as handsome as they say (he is, exceeds expectations every time). Cu’s solutions was to make him wear a ring and pose with it dramatically upon the start of every introduction. They still thirsty for him.
  * Is probably the most affectionate out of the three of you, surprisingly. Likes to sneak attack you guys with his hugs and kisses if possible, but Cu can hear him coming most of the time.
  * While none of you get jealous easily, he would be the one who feels it first if so. Will follow whichever one of you around like a puppy until he is pampered again.
  * Is the most patient man alive unless his S/O’s are in danger, then he’s ready to throw down right there and then. Takes a while to work him up, but will rage if he’s pushed too far and destroy the place, takes way longer to calm down again than Cu.
  * Will sulk if angry or hurt, and expects someone to come comfort him, ~~poor, precious boi~~. Generally (Name), since if it was enough to tip Diarmuid over the edge then Cu was probably mad first.
  * Exceptions: Fionn related things. Once a drunk Fionn thought it would be funny to hit on you because yes, he’s still salty and petty about Grainne. Drunk Diarmuid did not find it as funny and after that night, neither did Fionn who never bothered you again. Cu just egged him on like a good ally.
  * Likes to hold you in his lap, assures him that you are safe after the Fourth Grail War. Cu can take care of himself so he’s generally less all over him.
  * Love languages are generally physical touch and quality time. You have his undivided attention if you are in the room, regardless of what he was doing before. Lights up like a bulb when he spots either one of you, will perk up and rush to your side.



**Lancer Cu Chulainn:**

  * Unlike Diarmuid, if he’s mad, just LEAVE HIM ALONE. He can and will bite people’s heads off when he’s in the mood so just leave him to cool off by himself before approaching. He chills out pretty quick after all.
  * Drinks a lot, they both do and subsequently demand a lot of attention. Cu is flashy and will promptly _need_ everyone to witness how rad he is at parkour and other assortments of bar tricks. Also starts telling jokes that absolutely no one understands, not even himself. Unfortunately if he’s this far gone, Diarmuid is either being very clingy and emotional if you’re nearby or already asleep. 
  * It’s a trek getting them into the Uber later. If Diarmuid is awake though it’s significantly easier since he tends to drape himself all over you and whine various things in ancient Irish. And if Cu sees both of you leaving he follows about 50% of the time. If Diarmuid is knocked out though, then so begins the coaxing of Cu to carry him to the car because you sure as heck can’t without losing what shreds of dignity they have left.
  * Will not be dissuaded from his goal of owning a doggo.
  * Listen, he’s better at math than Diarmuid for the sole reason that he needs it for all his jobs while all Saber really has to do is not ride off a cliff. His employment has made him wise to the ways of the modern world but if you think he knows how to do his taxes you are mistaken. You spent a good many weekends submitting that lodgement during which time he went through all five stages of grief. Tried to fight the tax department until you sent Diarmuid to stop him.
  * Has a disposable income and doesn’t know how to manage it. Generally gives it to you to deal with but has his own account for purchasing random curiosities off Amazon. That’s how you guys have ended up with 1,000 live ladybugs, a Nicholas Cage mermaid cushion and a bar of frog shaped soap. He’s named it Stephan.
  * Once he also bought an army of remote controlled centipedes but it scared Kariya so badly when he came over that you donated them all to the the thrift shop.
  * Stabs as a warning.
  * Is a good gardener, grows vegetables that he doesn’t eat because he’s very much a meat-tooth. Diarmuid’s a sweet tooth and you’re to blame for that one.
  * Likes to show you two off, PDA = yes. Holding hands, kissing and canoodling? Check! Will slip an arm around your waists or squeeze butts so be prepared, he’s grabby.
  * He must be pretty the greatest if he managed to land two of the most beautiful and brave partners ever, you’re both his best friends and he would die for you. Canonically likes going on dates so will take you guys out pretty much weekly if you can spare the time. Still flirts and uses cheesy one liners even if you guys get married.
  * Astoundingly, he and Diarmuid are both good drivers. As in, can parallel park in one go in a crowded city lot where the cars around you are positioned terribly. Yeah, not that ‘need for speed’ driving that Artoria and Irisviel do.
  * Wakes up the earliest out of all of you, mainly because his shifts start at odd hours so he’s used to getting less sleep. Will stay for snuggles in bed if it’s an off day though, likes to be a big spoon. If you think he’s grabby in public he is full on gropey in the sheets, not even sexually it’s just how he is.
  * In saying that, is almost always DTF, he’s horny and he doesn’t bother hiding it, as expected prefers to top and dom…yes, that’s all I’m saying about this on a SFW fic.
  * For reasons no one can fathom, he’s very invested in a particular dating show. He watches it religiously every night and it’s his unofficial timeslot. Will fight you on it. Turns out that one of the contestants looked like Scathach and he’d been trying to work out for the entire season whether it had been her. One does not simply ask shisou if she is on “If You are the One” without risking getting hit.
  * Would have a really hard time letting go if they broke up, both he and Diarmuid would since they are so big on loyalty _and_ they share a mental link. (Name) would probably have it easiest out of the three of them honestly. But he would eventually move on if things didn’t work out. I don’t think Diarmuid ever would fully be able to leave it behind.
  * Unironically likes Toxic by Britney Spears and it drives Diarmuid up the wall. The benefits of open bonds means you _all_ get to enjoy the taste of her poison paradise throughout your fishing trips at the docks.
  * Thinks he’s really great at karaoke so sings like a pop star. Yeah, you guys don’t have the heart to tell him that’s why the neighbouring group left early.
  * Love languages are generally acts of service and gifts, he does the laundry and ironing too. (Name)’s tend to be words of affirmation and acts of service.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I am trying to hammer out the plot for Diar Alter! I currently have ideas but not enough to fully set out a long haul fic! I'm getting there though, I think xD It'll be set closer to Grand Order's plot but a shorter time frame, since 20 years is too long so I might cut all the time scales in half (Stay Night occurs 5 years after Zero, and Grand Order occurs 10 years after Zero) Tbh I have little clue what the plot of Grand Order is so this is going to be a trainwreck haha xD It'll be half flashback as well so to speak, since Diar Alter's timeline diverged from what happened in Do no Guile nor Treachery but I want to reveal it piece-wise. Idk idk, I'm rambling enjoy this hopefully xD


	10. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Reader Dies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IS ANYONE STILL HERE? I AM STILL HERE FOR SABER DIARMUID IF THERE ARE MCREADERS AROUND. Also also, was thinking of writing Hawks from BNHA because..the thorst xD I kinda want to do yandere with that but I’m not sure if its too niche...anyway, hope people enjoy sum angst with our favourite sword boi :’) Wanted to do some introspection to give Saber some depth about his feelings with Reader instead of it just being blind adoration as much as I make his lovestruckness a running theme.
> 
> No one:
> 
> Me: What if REader died??? xD

Some days he remembers the details exactly. The crisp autumn air, his breath fogging as he stood at the front lines, eyes trained on the shrouded of figures ahead. Formless opponents. The stamping of the horses, presence of his brothers in the Fianna, the banners tossed in the wind before those war horns were bellowing like the roar of a wild boar.

The tremendous cacophony and chaos of battle, blades tearing flesh or armour, the red and bodies falling to the ground.

He’d wake then, maybe by himself or from your gentle shaking. Wake up a world away, with a soft and sleepy you in his arms. He’d curl around you then, heart thudding as you’re squished against him tighter, like something fragile and precious.

“Nightmare?” you’d ask, in that sweet, concerned way of yours and he’d assure you it was nothing ~~you would understand~~.

Because he could still feel the thrill, the rush as he waited on those open moors, the far off mountains blending into the depthless skies. The call for champions to duel in single combat before the clash, the sound of singing steel as Móralltach swept through the air, cutting down his foe with all the fury of an ocean tempest. 

He revelled in it, the glory of victory, prided in his gory triumphs.

To know that it was by his spear and prowess that another had perished, their life forfeit. But to you, to kill was wrong. Morally damnable, not something to be praised for whether with honour or not. Assassination and dueling were one and the same, just murder.

He trailed his fingers through you hair, listening to the rise and fall of your chest, already even and steady once again. You’re warm and wonderful, everything he wants and he loves and loves, perhaps more than he’s loved anything else in a thousand years and yet...In the darkness, he’ll feel it, slowly encroaching like the ebb and flow of high tide. Loneliness. And maybe to live was to be ultimately alone, for human existence was such that no two journeys were perfectly alike. Yet it is not just this. It’ll be little things, forgotten by day, present by night. Language, culture...

There is _a_ distance, and to deny it was only to lie to himself. Moments where he knew you were not the same, where the expanse between you two seemed as vast as _Muir Éireann_. But that was all, never as endless as the North Atlantic that stretched on and on to the west. No, you were always within his orbit, even if just as a distant lighthouse. Or at least you had been.

There’s a knock on the door, but he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even open his eyes. He can’t bear it, doesn’t want to see the clinical stark white of Chaldea’s guest room ceiling instead of the pale eggshell colour your bedroom’s had been.

Another knock.

This time, his blatant attempt at ignoring this sound is followed by the beep of the keycard reader as someone steps inside. The gait is familiar, the footwear one he knows well. 

Cu stops by his bedside, stares for a moment at his fellow Servant who has bedridden himself since...the _incident_. Well, not directly afterwards but as soon as he had taken care of the perpetrator. He looks ancient lying there, not at all like the Saber who used to set fire to (Name)’s kitchen or dutifully tend to their styrofoam pool noodles.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“No.”

“You need to get up. You’ll start decomposing if you stay here any longer like this. They wouldn’t want that.” Lancer said with a sigh as his friend bristled at even the slightest mention of their recently deceased Master.

“Leave me to rot.”

“Yeah, can’t do that. Pretty sure (Na--”

“ _Don’t_ say her name…”

“What? Are they Voldemort now? They-who-must-not-be-named?”

There was no reply, but he could see the way Saber had tensed, jaw clenched. Cu exhaled slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Get up, it’ll do you some good. Look it wasn’t your fault, there wasn’t anything we could have done.” he told him quietly but Diarmuid just shook his head, fists coming up to grip his hair as if the thought wrenched him apart.

“I should have been there, I should have saved them...I can’t--!”

A part of him knew it wasn’t a practical thought of course, he couldn’t be with you every second of every day to prevent potential freak accidents. It would have been patronising, if nothing else. Especially not without a war going on. All the same, the guilt eats him alive. Its not as if he hasn’t seen death in all its many forms, but to think it would rob him so soon of someone so dear is unbearable. When he recalls his last memories of you, they are inane, mundane. Just a goodbye as you left for work, a question whether he could pick up some groceries on the way home.

He wonders whether Cu feels the same burning in his chest, as if his heart is constricting when he wakes, searches that empty space next to him. But he hadn’t fought a war with you, had always been self assured and steady in a way Diarmuid hadn’t been when he was first summoned, roiling with silent bitterness. He watches those crimson eyes stare vacantly at the opposite wall, just sitting there on his bed waiting for him to clamber free from his sorrow. 

It’s not fair to place this burden on him, he knows. For Cu was your Servant also and was younger than him when he died, even if age is meaningless now.

“And you? Are you alright?” he asks at last as Lancer raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm, not the first Master of mine that I’ve seen die.” he says quickly, forcing a casualness to his tone. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t pry. Knows the value of sequestering this entire event away, not dwelling on it. In that department, it seemed Cu was beating him. If he kept moving forward, then perhaps the grief or regret would not choke him. As for Diarmuid, he was caught in the wake, drowning in the pitched waves of his loss.

Still, when his friend stands, giving him one last questioning look, Saber summons the strength to sit up. Then, its a few deep breaths from there before he swings his legs over the side, limbs heavy as he trudges to the bathroom to wash his face clean of the tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On another note, I kind of wanted to stop writing so melodramatically and start doing...casual, easy reads. But then I did this so I guess I’m trapped in my writing style xD


	11. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tag Warnings:** Kidnapping, kissing/cuddling without consent, delusional yandere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PROMISED YANDERE CONTENT. Cu didn’t happen in this AU, Reader never summoned him so its just the two of them xD Yeah I know, I didn’t know how to deal with him so I just snipped him out of the AU, perfect solution xD Also, wanted to write a long haul Cu Alter fic in Stay Night verse. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to replace Lancer if Hercules is out as a Berserker. So...the pain xD
> 
> Anyway, soft, delusional yandere in my opinion given Saber’s history with Reader and her personality but I’ll dial it up later if I can get a prompt. This is essentially just Diar Alter’s entire deal in my other fic xD But since I’m never going to manage to finish that, I’m just recycling the plot orz. Tbh, the Diar Alter plot I’m actually interested to write starts all the way at the end of FGO’s plot, so I’m thinking of just doing a huge time skip and going back one day to slowly slowly fill out the chapters before that. Idk, something is better than nothing right?
> 
> Yeah I treat this fic like my notice board for thoughts but where else if not here xD

You started awake, the air around you humming differently, as if charged before a thunderstorm, your heart races. Even the sheets are different, if you could call them that. They were furred, certainly too warm for the temperature maintained within Chaldea’s main compound yet there’s a chill in the air. But its more than that, because beneath all of this you can’t feel your contract anymore. Before you can fully panic, your hand hits someone next to you.

“(Name)?” calls Diarmuid and seeing your panic, he’s quick to embrace you, lying you back down so that his weight rests snugly against your body. “Shh, its okay. Everything is okay.”

“Where are we? What happened?” you asked, swallowing your confusion and anxiety. “I can’t feel our contract anymore.”

“I know, its gone. But that’s alright, we don’t need it here.” he explains soothingly, and there’s something _off_ about his tone, its honeyed and saccharine as he caresses your his way down from your chest to your waist.

“Where are we?” you repeat, trying to get up but he’s nestled against you restrictively, kissing your cheeks, running his fingers through your hair.

“The Isle of Apples, we’ll be safe here.” he replies gently as you pause.

“As in the Celtic Otherworld? Avalon? The Reverse Side of the World? Are we dead?” you question frantically as he hushes you once again, his grip firm despite how soft his words are. “How did we get here? We have to get back!”

“We’re alive, everything is fine.” he cooed hurriedly, pressing down on you and it starting to become suffocating, his insistence on keeping you amongst the blankets. “I...brought us here. Isn’t it wonderful? I wish you could see our new home, can you hear how the wind sings or the waves echo? Its beautiful.”

“...Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why are we here?”

“So that we could be together forever, of course! We won’t have to worry about being parted by death, this land is ageless. Anything you desire I will attain for you. We can finally be happy together, I know we will.”

You can hardly believe it, not sure if your ears are deceiving you. You flinch when he cups your face as you try to parse through your confusion. When he’d said he wanted to show you something, Rayshifting you both back to the Ireland of his time you had thought it a nostalgia trip not...whatever this was.

“What is wrong with you? Are you under some kind of curse? You didn’t think you should...ask before just absconding with me to some mythical plane?” you finally manage to get out, the disbelief in your voice evident.

There’s a long silence that follows. He had wanted to. He had wanted to gush about how he had found the solution to the insurmountable calamity that was your inevitable death. But he kept it hidden, wanted everything to be perfect before he said anything. A part of his non-deluded mind was also afraid that you would refuse, then what would he do? It was easier to beg forgiveness than ask for permission after all, especially when you had all of eternity to come around. But he knew there was no need, for you loved him dearly and would not refuse him something so important. Of course you would have agreed, you could see as he could that you were made for each other after all. That all the chaos of the modern world were merely distractions from your devotion to one another.

He’d longed for you desperately for too long, spent countless hours fantasizing until somewhere through the haze, he had managed to convince himself that this was good and right. That he deserved joy and contentment, that he deserved _you_. Surely after all his tragedies this was true? You had been so kind, so gentle with him there was no one else he could entrust his heart to. You cooked with him, listened to his woes, let him come to you when he’d wake, shaking and afraid from nightmares that only you could lull away with how you’d cosset him in your arms. Yes, yes, you loved him. Because if this fundamental truth was false, he couldn’t bear it. Not after it all.

You sighed.

“Come’on. Let’s head back, get Da Vinci to check you for injuries or any lingering spells.” you told him shortly, sitting up.

He merely pushed you down again, not forcefully but it was unexpected so you flopped back onto the bed. For a long second, you two peered at each other. You’d never had to wonder what you would do if your Servant simply decided that they didn’t want to obey, or at the very least discuss options. That appeared to be changing. Would Command Seals work? But there was no contract here, so unlikely. He was stronger than you easily, especially in the lands of his legend.

“We can’t go back (Name), there is no ship.” he stated matter-of-factly, as you tentatively tried to rise again but he’s languidly trapped you under his bulk.

You feel his hands slip under your clothes but you quickly swat them away.

“Wait!” you interrupted as he sulked a little at your rejection, settling instead for stroking your hair. “Just, explain to me how we arrived and I’ll try to work something out.”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if we _could_ why would we _want_ to return?”

“What do you mean? It’s my home! I can’t stay here. Also can you please give me some _space_.” you’ve been nudging him away for the last few minutes but this is the first time you actually shove with any intent.

He doesn’t even budge, merely gives a hurt mutter at your rare display of irritation before redoubling his efforts at consoling you. You’re afraid, his poor precious darling. But he’s here for you, he’ll always be here for you--

“Diarmuid, get off! Please!”

“Hush, it’s alright, there’s no need to be scared of anything anymore.” he simpers as you squirm in frustration, trying to fend him off.

He’s always been clingy, increasingly so ever since your wayward conversation about what you intended to do in the future had not included him in it. You had always just assumed he would go back to the Throne, or would join the other Servants working at Chaldea. You wouldn’t be fit to run around on missions forever after all while he would be essentially forever young. But no, apparently that tiny revelation had set him over the edge, over a precipice into an abyss that was eating you alive.

You feel his lips against yours, desperate and heated as your nails dig into his chest in a futile effort to gain distance. It’s too much, his behaviour is strange and terrifying and the way he bears down on you is smothering, it feels like you’re drowning. Magic floods your circuits on instinct, flooding the room with what you know is blinding light as a deafening bang resounds from your palm. His grip on you tightens. In an instant, he’s shielding you from cacophonous ringing, covering your ears so you won’t get stunned. Its not at all what you want. 

“Let go, Saber! Please, just back up!” you implore him, scrambling to twist out of his grasp for even just a second.

His breathing sounds laboured now, if you could see his eyes you would have panicked even more at how their gold had turned sulfurous. You had used offensive magecraft on him, actually felt threatened enough to try a flashbang spell. Even when in danger you tended to prefer softer memory wipes or sleep charms, never something so...violent. Why would you do that? Did he frighten you so much? That you should be shrieking at him now, clawing to be free from his tender embrace? Did you… ~~hate him?~~ No, no someone must have corrupted his pure little dove, said something to make you so intolerant to his affection. That’s all.

“(Name), its just me. Your loyal knight, please do not struggle like this--”

Your expression...its so distressed. It breaks his heart even as he cuddles you adoringly, protectively against his chest. He’s not listening to the cries of your addled mind anymore, focusing on calming his beloved until they feel secure and--

“Let. Go.” you whisper through gritted teeth, genuinely afraid now.

He ignores you, at which point you feel energy bubbling up within you. _Just get him away, just get me away from this man._ The surge of your shielding barrier abruptly knocks him back, more out of surprise than due to the strength, you presume. Nonetheless, you use the chance to tumble ungracefully off the bed even as you feel your wrist caught. 

“Please, I don’t want to fight!” he pleads.

“You have Magic Resistance, I don’t think this counts as a ‘fight’!”

You try to yank yourself free but its useless, few magi could win against Servants let alone in these conditions. Still, his hold is anything but rough as he guides you back. You briefly consider your arsenal, but any attack by magic would be useless. Any physical strike was ridiculous and would only escalate the situation. But words...

“You’ve turned into Grainne!”

He freezes, but this time he doesn’t let shock loosen his grip. You thrash as he abruptly pins you down, chest heaving.

“...You don’t mean that. Take it back.” he says quietly, tone strained. “Take it back, (Name). _Right now_.”

You hesitated, weighed the value of non-compliance.

“Okay. I take it back.”

He stiffened, clearly expecting more but you didn’t elaborate. Couldn’t he _see_ the similarities? He’d essentially forced you to flee with him to some place against your will out of some kind of twisted obsession. You bite your lip, his gaze practically burning a hole through you before he sighs.

“I’m nothing like that, not at all. I _love_ you, sincerely, ingenuously. You just said that to hurt me, didn’t you? That was cruel of you, but I understand. You were upset, it happens to everyone. I forgive you. Its okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” 

You marvelled how he could have an entire conversation with himself, comfort himself back into his delusional reverie without any help at all. You supposed he must have been doing this mentally this entire time, hiding this mania of his. No, this hadn’t happened all at once, just drop by drop like water into a yawning chasm until suddenly it was torrential. Maybe it had begun back in that forest, on that fateful night you conjured up that summoning circle or perhaps the seed had been planted as he lay dying while Fionn watched. This desperate longing, ravenous hunger for unconditional love from someone of his choosing, even if it were only a fabrication of his own mind. 

“Oh! You must be hungry, that’s why you’re grouchy, right?” and his tone is _playful_ , you want to scream because what is happening, how has he gotten like _this_ without you noticing? “I made us some lunch, that grilled fish you said you liked before. I can make you something else if you would like though, dearest.”

Ah, so he was going to just pretend like nothing was wrong. You took a deep breath. It would be best to just play along for now. In those few moments after you accused him of being...her, you weren’t sure if he might actually crack through his code of honour and hurt you. Unlikely, but it was still the closest you’d ever been to feeling his ire.

“...Yeah, thanks.”

He smiled dotingly, stroking the love of his life. This was better, now that you had gotten over the initial shock of the relocation. He leaned forward, pulling you sweetly into a kiss, his barely restrained eagerness obvious.

“I’ll go and get it, but first, tell me you love me~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also bplease review if you feel like it, I actually like this fic and hope others do too :’D orz


	12. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tag Warnings:** Kidnapping, kissing/cuddling without consent, delusional yandere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slapping these out at record speed xD It seems that I always end up returning to writing yandere :< Thanks for all the lovely comments last time guys, it really encouraged me to update :'D Next up though I want Fionn to be the one to stage a rescue attempt (I'll shoehorn some reason why), just so that we can live in the irony and have reverse Grainne situation sort of xD

“Diarmuid, I have to go back. You understand that this place is as foreign to me as another planet right? I’m not meant to be here.”

He’s holding you in his lap, sitting by the cliffside overlooking the sea he’s already described in detail. His arms are wrapped warmly around you, chin resting on your head as he sulks. Briefly, you can feel him checking you over for any signs of sickness or injury before returning to the view. You prod him when he doesn’t reply, earning a whine.

“But (Name), you’d die and age back there! And when you left, I’d never see you again...I can’t even bear the thought of our eternal separation let alone have allowed it to pass! Please? Just stay here with me, it’s not so bad...hm?” he says, squeezing you slightly as you sigh. “We’re happy together, I love you so, so much.”

“Maybe that’s what makes life beautiful, that it is fleeting. That every moment should be treasured before it fades. If we last forever, what is the point of anything? Humans aren’t meant to live that way. Immortality...I think it makes monsters of men more often than not.”

He hums, nestling you even closer as you feel like a disgruntled stuffed toy caught in his needy embrace. Maybe all those thousands of years on the Throne really did addle his mind, how else could he think that stealing a person was okay? But you supposed simply kidnapping your future spouse wasn’t as frowned upon in those days...

“Such a lovely sentiment, but I could know no other peace unless the rest of my days are with you.” he murmurs dreamily as you try to think of a different tactic, barely listening to the hopeful request he adds. “Promise me you’ll always be with me? That you’ll never stop loving me?”

Your current plan was to try and make him see reason, if he could understand just how “Grainne” he was being he might just empathise with you. On the other hand, Plan B was to play house with him until he trusted you enough to let you run off. You hoped that by that time you would have gained enough information about your surroundings to find a way back, or at least managed to cajole a cane out of him so you could navigate this huge hill he seemed to have situated this house on. 

“How did you even...get this house?”

He huffed at how you ignored his previous questions but answered regardless, playing with the hem of your shirt (that he had acquired for you, like everything else you currently owned).

“Do you like it? I built it myself.”

“Yeah but how...as in I remember falling asleep, then waking up here. How long did that take? How long has it been?” you press as he smooths your hair. “I doubt you could travel here with me and put it together in one night.”

“Not long.”

You read between the lines. You had no memory of the journey, so he’s clearly done _something_ without your knowledge and/or consent. You try to check yourself, cleanse any curse you might be afflicted with. But there’s so much interference in a land like this, where normally you could detect life signals of plants or animals or people, there was simply too much energy here, too much “noise”. Your magecraft was pitiful compared to those from the Age of the Gods, just the party tricks of commoners. The layers and layers of roiling mana in this place are blinding.

“So, you wiped my memory?”

He gives a sharp intake of breath, horrified and aghast you would think him capable of such an act. You squeak a little in his desperate hug, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. The way he holds you, fingers almost always digging in is just shy of being manic, like you’re his lifeline on stormy waves, his salvation.

“No, no! Of course not, how could you think me so barbaric to do something like that?” he begs in a pitched tone and you resist the urge to pull out your newly written thesis of exactly why. “Darling, never. I would never want you to forget any precious moment we have shared…”

“Well, I’m going to assume that until you provide me a better explanation.”

“You’ve just been...resting.” he offers at last as you make a bid for freedom. “Mortals can’t ordinarily survive in the Reverse Side of the World so I had to...have assistance in making sure you could.”

“You didn’t take that as a sign from the universe that I shouldn’t be here?”

“Dearest, it is not, I assure you. Its quite the opposite in fact, for here you will know more appreciation and tenderness than you ever could have back in that jaded realm.” he purrs happily, still fluffing himself proudly at having made the transition so smoothly. 

You flop over when his grip doesn’t loosen, when his affectionate kisses don’t cease despite your fidgeting to be uncaged. Unfortunately he takes your resigned slumping as an invitation for further cuddles... He’s cooing softly to comfort you ineffectually and when had his sweetness turned to such bitter poison?

“Did you put a geas on me?”

Your words hang in the air for a moment, his body immediately tensing, his nails almost drawing blood from the way his hands clenched instinctively. You’ve known each other too long, he can tell exactly where you’re going with this and it makes his blood both turn to ice and boil simultaneously. He’d never do something like that, force someone under threat of geas, threaten them to do as he said lest their life be ruined by ancient contract sorcery. But it had been destroyed anyway, collapsing along with his code of honour as he betrayed his closest comrades. He’s not...he’s not _her_ , right? No, no, no...

“...No, I would never, (Name).” he tells you carefully, warily. “Please don’t bring things like this up, it breaks my heart to hear you accuse me of offences I did not commit.”

You look away from him. A part of you still doesn’t believe this is real, you half expect to wake with Da Vinci and Dr. Roman around your bedside claiming you had fallen into a wormhole. You expect to wake to _your_ Saber there, worried and concerned as always but not deranged like this one.

“I just want us to be together, I just need you to be mine...is that such a crime?” he whispers quietly and he sounds so vulnerable, so tentative you almost feel the reflexive urge to console him. Almost.

“When it involves kidnapping, yes. Diarmuid, you took me away from my home, my friends and family, from everything I know. Against my will, you made me flee with you.” your word choice is deliberate, you _want_ him to remember his own tale. “Don’t you remember how it felt when G--”

You don’t get her name out before his lips are crashing onto yours, you’re pulled flush against him as he nips and demands entrance. By the time he pulls away, you’re gasping for breath as he tucks your head against his chest, taking unnaturally deep breaths to appear calm.

_I’m not her, I’m NOT! Why do you keep suggesting it?!_

“Don’t talk about that again. Please. I can’t stand it. I cannot convey to you how much I despise and detest hearing such things from your mouth. It causes me indescribable anguish to think that you have that opinion of me, when the comparison it hurtful and false.” he snaps tartly, still refusing to let you go, needing your warmth against him more than ever.

“I did not drug all of your closest friends or compel you to act treacherously against your oaths, and I did not plead with you to carry me or protect me from harm that I myself created. I seek only to safeguard you, love you and keep you. This, I have vowed and will uphold until my last day.”

You don’t say anything, waiting for his burst of resentment to blow over. He’s still gentle, still stroking you with measured strength. Somehow, and you didn’t think it possible, he’s even clingier than he was a few minutes ago. Its as if he is trying to stick to you like tape or sink into your very soul. You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in his constricting caresses, in his burning desperation for your acceptance and devotion. His longing is an insatiable hunger. You can see clearly what he cannot, which is that he will never be satisfied. Even if you gave him what he wanted now, he would want more and more until...there would be nothing left to give. Such was the nature of his ravenous curse.

He sighs, watching the way you lay there placidly, his perfect angel, his little kitten. You’d only do this with someone you trusted, someone you adored. You must not understand how much pain you cause him with your comparisons. You must not comprehend or know the extent of what Grainne did to him, the _weight_ her single choice had on his entire existence. You mustn’t...grasp it. Yes, that's it. For if you knew how deeply you wounded him with your callous remarks, how you drove a knife through his ribs when you said that he was sure you would not do so ever again. That’s all. No, its not your fault. You’re innocent to the true duplicitous and selfish ways of _her_ , and it tastes like bile on his tongue to think that her miasma has managed to spread even here. To dare try and taint someone he treasures as much as you, someone so irreplaceable...

“Ah, (Name). It’s okay, I know you do not fully recognise the impact of your words, or the effect that the mere mentioning of _her_ in relation to me has on my psyche. To a certain extent, I’m glad! Because it makes me terribly bitter and rather vexed to dwell on it, so its best not to mention it again, hm? I want to be content and cheerful for you, gods know you deserve it especially when you make it so easy! You bring me so much joy darling, so that’s what I want to focus on. You’re all I want to think about...”

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s done it again, deluded himself into seeing you as a saint that could never, ever hurt her precious boi. That even if he _happened_ to feel negative emotions in relation to something you did, why it wasn’t your fault! How could it be? Unintentionally or otherwise it was impossible for you to harm him. You take one last attempt at making him _see_.

“No Diar, I do understand. I’ve shared your memories, your emotions, your past through our bond. I know. I wouldn't say something I didn’t mean, I’m trying to help you gain some self-awareness before its too late!”

It’s useless, you can tell just by the way he hums dotingly in acknowledgement. You’re both trapped in a cycle of thinking the other isn’t thinking straight. You suspect that anything less than shrieking at him in frustration or hurling fireballs would not be enough to rouse him from his rapture, and even then only temporarily. 

“I know, I know you’re just trying to help. Thank you, I love you too dearest~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope people enjoyed! Its pretty much just talking and soft yandere so far so hope that its interesting for readers! I dig through the last chapter's comments for ideas on what to do next pretty much xD


	13. Alters (Grocery Shopping)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do they have the habit of meeting everyone they hate when they are out? Idk, I just need plot devices xD Its not yandere but the Alters are so overprotective sometimes they sort of border on it. BUT WE SHOULD DO YANDERE ALTERS AMIRITE?? xD Thanks so much for the reviews, they have been really encouraging and I love reading them <3 Also, do you know how hard it is to write "G-rated" insults xD

“Stop putting so much chicken into the cart! You don’t pay for anything in our household so the least you could do is not contribute to our expenses!”

Cu growled, watching Avenger storm off to return all of his precious drumsticks as you turned around. You thought it might be good to teach them some general life skills such as grocery shopping but apparently you were stretching the limits of your luck by merely keeping them around each other for more than 15 minutes at a time. On the plus side, your risk of accidentally walking into people was reduced to zero upon having two glaring Alters glowering at anyone who happened to be within line of sight. The aisles practically emptied themselves.

“We’ll grab a bite to eat before we head back, don’t worry.” you say to appease him as he grunts in acknowledgement, sulking over the rest of your listed items. “I heard there’s a great new Taiwanese fried chicken place nearby, if you would like to try it out.”

He nods, knowing that you can’t see. You’re unbearably sweet to him and its simultaneously insufferable and intoxicating, made all the worse that he can feel your genuine concern through your bond over his self-loathing. He doesn’t know _what_ to think. You’re weak, a fragile thing and exactly the kind of person he would disregard ordinarily but all the same he grudgingly admits that he is in debt to you for all the times you made him food or tried to be misguidedly nice to him. Pathetic or not, you had supported a castaway like him, taken him in after a violent incident at Chaldea had Dr. Roman suggest he needed a change of scenery. 

At the very least, _she_ wasn’t here--

“There you are~! I found you!”

Berserker freezes, snapping around as a familiar voice cuts through the air. Of course. How had he ever expected to not be haunted by his past. His first instinct is to slink away in spirit form just to get away from this pink haired lady, followed shortly by the need to put himself between his Master and a potentially hostile enemy Servant. In lieu of either of these choices, he just stands there for a moment as you stare in the direction of the voice in confusion, not sure if they were talking to you. Rider is rushing up to him, lacey white outfit billowing behind her and its exactly the same as he remembers, pristine yet sickening, makes memories rise like bile in his throat. 

“Cu! Its been so long~” she greets, embracing him, trailing her fingers along his chest playfully as he grits his teeth. “No one would tell me where you went but...I managed to persuade a man.”

He pushes her away bluntly, thankful for the first time that these stuffy modern clothes you had bequeathed him at least covered him from direct skin contact. He went back to rummaging through the shelves of jars for the cloves you were after. Medb was sulking behind him, clearly put out by his lacklustre greeting as her eyes flashed over to his Master, who was waiting for either introductions or explanations, their uncertain ‘hellos’ going ignored. Neither of which were likely to come. Instead, the lady latched onto his arm once again, nestling into his side and murmuring to him in his native tongue. He shucked her off impatiently, grabbing your hand before pushing the cart away from this remanent of his past.

“Rude. Is this because you got some new Master in your life? Hmph, they’re nothing special...let’s go home together now, Cu!” she said with a huff, following after you two as he made his way to the refrigerated section.

“Leave me alone.” he snapped, spotting what he came here for.

“Not until--”

He examines the block of hard cheese for half a second, then starts collecting an entire armful.

“H-Hey! What are you doing with those!” protests Rider anxiously, backing up as the wedges are placed into your cart.

“What is he doing with what?? What is going on??”

Despite the presence of her mortal enemy, the armies of cheddar and mozzarella, she is still standing in the path of your shopping trolley. Her pout is obvious as she rounds on you abruptly.

“You’re the one who stole my man from Chaldea, huh? Pretty bold of you to challenge a queen like _me_.” she told you haughtily, flicking her rose coloured locks in a tone that suggested this really wasn’t about you at all. You just happened to be the person nearby that her grouchiness upon rejection was being taken out on.

“Stole…? I’m just trying to buy groceries--”

“Don’t act all innocent. He was mine first, you know? But clear as day I can see you’ve snatched him up!” for emphasis, the tip of her whip is used to lift your hand that holds his Command Seals.

One moment, you can feel the edge of a riding crop against your palm, it isn’t even used forcefully, if anything her motion is disdainful. Like she’s sullying her weapon. Then, there’s a rush of air before something is slicing through space in front of you, crashing onto the ground hard enough the shockwave makes you jump. Medb is shouting indignantly as someone grabs you, pushes you away from the other Servant.

“That hurt, you cretin!” she shrieks, nursing a wound she had managed to barely deflect. “Tch, only cowards rely on surprise attacks…!”

“ _Don’t_ touch her.” snarls Avenger, Móralltach and Gáe Dearg drawn, poised to strike at the ruffled Rider.

“Oh? You managed to grab Diarmuid too? Do _try_ and leave some for the rest of us…” she retorted sarcastically, and once again its more acidity at having been caught off guard than having any true animosity (you hope). “Whatever, come’on Cu let’s get out of here.”

Predictably, Berserker doesn’t budge but even he has bristled warily at the small scuffle that has broken out. He can see his ally’s eyes, alight with golden fury that almost seem to glow despite the brightness of the room.

“ _Leave._ Before I decide sparing your life is more trouble than its worth.” spits Avenger furiously.

You can feel his unease though, apprehension. Like he isn’t sure he could take this Servant in a fight, let alone account for all the uncertain variables. The place was crowded, did she care for collateral damage? Could she maneuver a chariot through such tight spaces? Was her Master nearby, would your other Alter help?

“Cu?” she tries again.

“ _No._ ”

You hear an annoyed sniff before her footsteps die away, sensing Avenger relax just a fraction after a few minutes wherein the bustle of other shoppers slowly returns. The peace doesn’t last.

“ _ **You.**_ ” Diarmuid promptly turns to Cu, seething, sheer wrath roiling off him in waves. “How _dare_ you allow your Master to be injured under your watch? Have you no basic decency, after all they have done for you?! You invite an enemy Servant to attack and can still stand there without remorse?!”

His rage is blistering, yet icy. Violent, yet calm.

“I’m not actually hurt--” you try to pipe up.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything more from a beast like you, to go lapping back to your mistress like a dog.”

“Shut up! For someone who prattles so much you have little to back it up with, I could tear you to pieces, vermin!”

“Ha! Don’t make me laugh. Take your treachery back to that witch, hound. I don’t ever want to see you around (Name) again, I hope you rot at her feet like you deserve!”

“Enough!”

You hug him around the waist, holding on despite how tense and aggravated he is, Noble Phantasms still raised.

“Enough...please. Let’s just go home, okay?” you plead and Diarmuid stiffens, scoffing quietly. “Let’s just pay for our stuff and go.”

Silently, he takes by the hand, wheeling your cart full of way too much chicken (he hadn’t been able to return it) and cheese to the cashier. You feel Berserker slip away into spirit form, vanishing.

He feels like killing something, like digging his claws into flesh and ripping hearts out. That brat had no right to question his loyalty, Medb may have been selfish and cunning but even she wouldn’t stoop to stabbing his Master. At least not right off the bat, it wasn’t her style. Had he sensed her hostility, he would have defended you, it was the very nature of your contract after all. He wouldn’t have let you get hurt. Gods, that everything would come crashing down was exactly the kind of misfortune that would happen to him.

He knew he couldn’t escape fate forever. _Of course_ she would show up, dredge him back from what little sanctuary he had managed to find. That accursed fanboy of yours would surely make you give up his seals now, then it was back to Chaldea for him. Back to _her_. He can’t stand it, hates the notion of having to avoid her like the plague at every turn again. Of suffering through her attempts at seduction, her hands all over him. Being trapped within stark white walls, endless closed corridors that form a winding maze. Suffocating under her stifling affection--

No, he’s not going back. All he wants is the freedom to roam the land, to hunt and live as he pleases and while you put _some_ restrictions on his harming people habits, its a world of difference away from the iron clad grip of his queen. He’d worm his way into staying, even if you asked him to go. You were gentle with him after all and that was a rare trait, even now he could feel your concern for him through your bond and such _doting_ was absurd, but not unpleasant. 

After all, despite his indifference and talk of being a monster, he had come to a terrifying realisation. He cared about what you thought of him. Was curious to see where the road might take him by your side, wasn’t living just day to day, trudging through the endless months. No, a part of him was grudgingly, hesitantly optimistic, on what the future might hold for you two. Yes, yes, it was pathetic and miserably sentimental but hope was a feathered thing and notoriously unkillable. Even for him. Thus, for it to end now...when he had just started daring to look up... You can’t toss him away that easily, certainly not over something like this. He'd finally, unwillingly given you something precious and if you dropped it now, let his faith in you shatter like glass...he didn't know if he could restrain his madness. It had been foolish naivety to give such a thing in the first place but its not like he could scramble to claw it all back now. There were many ways he might allow your contract with him to cease but over a fleeting brush with his former jailor was not one of them. Also, you had yet to take him to the aforementioned fried chicken restaurant you mentioned earlier.

So when you and Diarmuid return home to find him casually lounging on your couch, your first instinct is to stick your arm out so the two of them don’t start again. At least not physically because you’re sure that will cause a mess you won’t be able to clean up any time soon.

“You have the audacity to return here, creature?” hisses Avenger venomously, and you can just tell their spears and swords are coming out soon. "Get lost!"

“(Name) didn’t say I had to leave, so I’m not going anywhere. Your opinion means nothing to me.” 

“Do you want me to extend to you a formal resignation notice? Bastard traitor’s formal employment is hereby terminated due to--”

“Stop! Please, both of you!” you interrupt at last, fluffing yourself up as much as possible and stepping between them. “Listen, this is what is going to happen. You’re both going to go to your rooms and cool off. Then, we’re going to have dinner and talk _respectfully_ about the events today and our differences. Understand?” you raise your voice just slightly, exhausted. 

“ _Me?!_ I’ve done nothing deserving of chastisement--!”

“Diarmuid, _please_.”

For a moment, you wonder whether they have collectively opted to ignore you but the sound of two slamming doors affirms otherwise. They actually listened, a miracle! With a sigh, you set about putting away all your fifty stacks of various cheese blocks and forty or so drumsticks. Well, at least you knew what you were making tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was this? Wasn't sure about Cu Alter's characterisation or Medb's but hope people liked it!


	14. Alters (Charity Event)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this as fluffy as possible with the Alters, so that their personalities could be seen as something more than salty xD I think I made them a little out of character to fulfill the fluff and self indulgence but hopefully not too far out. Having them get along is actually really fun too xD Tbh, I think Diar Alter would be okay with Cu if he wasn't so jealous/overprotective. If they had a different Master that neither of them were invested in, they would probably get along better xD But as it stands now, even if they are quite similar in many regards, things tend to fall apart in relation to Reader since Diar Alter hates sharing...just absolutely in any way shape or form xD Still, I want to leave it ambiguous as to whether Cu and Reader could have anything but the short answer is...not on Diar's watch xD But they could sort of get along in various moments, like if Reader was sick or in danger, they work together then.

“Hey, I have a surprise for you two!”

Cu perks up, is it food? He loves chicken, he hopes its chicken. He starts sniffing around immediately, spying you somewhat badly hiding a rack of fried buttermilk drumsticks behind you. He practically teleports to your side, nudging you lightly to let you know he’s here for his portion. The implicit, ‘feed me’ goes unsaid. Given that today was supposed to be Turnip Tuesday or whatever from your crazy vegetable scheme to starve them to death (had they needed sustenance), this was a welcome change. Mostly because you had been desperately trying to be rid of the army of chicken and cheese in your fridge before it went bad. Yes, you had already donated a sizeable proportion to Kariya and your other friends. Diarmuid gives a blatant scoff at this behaviour but also stalks over because he deserved _at least_ the amount of good things you were wasting on that beast.

“Chaldea’s having a charity event, there’ll be activities and you guys will have a chance to socialise with other Servants and stuff.” you told them brightly as they both internally groaned, more alike than they realised. 

Cu only gives you a grunt of acknowledgement, still eyeing his prizes. You weren’t ignorant of his poultry ways though, knew that Berserker was inclined to do your bidding upon reward of munchies. It was hard to say who was more compliant in this sense, one Servant could be easily bribed with KFC but Avenger was generally more willing to do things for you without needing carrots. He was also excessively overprotective which half the time meant he would follow you around everywhere and the other 50% of the time he would flat out refuse to let you do things he deemed “unsafe”.

“Ugh, half the cretins there are barely tolerable. I do not wish to ‘socialise’ with any of them. What kinds of fruitless pursuits have they populated the agenda with anyway?” replied Avenger, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“You haven’t even met most of the others. I thought if you saw other Heroic Spirits having fun in the modern world, you guys might like it better here! They’ll have games, escape rooms--”

“Every room with Berserker in it becomes an escape room...Why are we paying for something we have the privilege of experiencing everyday?”

“First of all, I’m paying so its free to you. Secondly, well it’ll build our teamwork skills and stuff! Escape rooms are like little missions we could do together without the risk of injury and violence. Also, be nice.”

“Ha! He’s practically synonymous with “a risk of violence”…” Avenger replied darkly, herding you along into a corner as you heard a door shut, his body close to yours. “Besides, I could put us into a tiny broom closet right now, no charge. See? Done. Try to ‘escape’.”

You deadpan, feeling around the crowded space and touching your vacuum cleaner and other appliances. You swat at him but he seems content to hold you in this impromptu prison of his, amused at your attempts to squirm past, merely stroking you fondly. There was barely enough space for you not to stand on his toes let alone reach the exit.

“Very funny. But they are like real life puzzle games, they’re lots of fun and I think you guys might enjoy it! If not, we can just walk around the stalls.”

“I could think of a few ways we could have fun in here~” he purred lowly, leaning down to whisper suggestively into your ear, starting to slip his hold beneath your shirt. “I’d make sure you enjoyed yourself…”

“Really? In my broom closet? You don't even need mana...” you chided lightly, as he pouts a little. “Did you get around to downloading Tinder like I mentioned to...uh, satisfy your needs?”

Not like he’d need it, he could just stroll out in public and you were fairly sure he’d have a flock of hopeful partners following him in minutes. The legends had been right about his appetite at least...although it seemed to be a common theme among the Celtic heroes you had noticed. Whoever had summoned Fergus had their work cut out for them. You had simply thought that Diarmuid had grown out of his youthful lust since he hadn’t been half as horny as a Lancer but apparently it was back, or perhaps more accurately he didn’t bother keeping it restrained around you anymore. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t stopped him from moving into your bed after he was first summoned, and now the precedent has just stuck along with his wandering hands when you were trying to sleep. 

“No, I thought I had made it clear I had no interest in fraternising with others…” he growled, and you can feel his hands on your waist, fingers through your hair. “Besides, there’s no privacy since _he_ moved in…can’t we return him to Chaldea already?”

You’re about to reply when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking chicken bones.

“Wait! I have to go and defend the drumsticks!” you protest upon this reminder, as he reluctantly releases you.

But its too late, you can hear Cu crunching his way through your bribe, tail swishing happily as he indulged himself now that the guards were gone. Mhm, people didn’t make him stuff like this back there, didn’t go out of their way to find out what he liked and fry it from scratch. Sure, there were plenty of Servants who bustled about the kitchens of Chaldea, but he knew he wasn’t welcome there, hated the atmosphere and crowds of the canteen. More importantly, Mebd was lurking around those white washed corridors, and she was something he preferred to avoid at all costs. For these reasons, he grudgingly found himself ~~appreciative~~ in debt to you. Ugh, you made him _weak_ and he didn’t know whether he hated or cared about you for it, for somehow managing to foist this wayward desire for your kind words or attention on an someone like him.

“Hey! You ate it, you have to attend!” you accuse as he continues gorging himself contently, even as you pop up next to him with an indifferent Diarmuid draped over your shoulders. 

He glances over briefly, meeting the irked golden gaze of his fellow housemate. Avenger tightens his grip on you instinctively, the unsaid _mine, mine, mine_ loud and clear. Cu rolled his eyes. That man’s jealousy and infatuation with you practically dripped off him like sweat, it was disgusting. He had no use for things as breakable as you anyway, who needed protection and the assistance of others...even if said thing cooked his favourite dishes, talked to him gently, let him roam freely, made him wonder at their softness if he curled around them-- 

Avenger’s expression was a half snarl by now, noticing the way your other Servant _looked_ at you, with something more than apathy. He loathed that a creature like him, blackened by the Grail would even consider anything more than having his presence tolerated by you. What he wouldn’t give to sic Mebd on him, have her come collect her hound but even he knew that was playing with fire. Berserker may have been annoying but he wasn’t hostile to you whereas Rider was very well a threat, and given the chance he knew that it was the queen he would need to eliminate first. Not that it made their companionship much easier, being united in one common enemy. He would have despised having to share you even a little with _anyone_ as he was patiently doing these days for your sake let alone a former Irish Lancer like himself.

“Did you leave any for us?” you piped up, oblivious to their silent hostility.

Cu hmphed. Of course he did. He might be a monster but even he wasn’t that inconsiderate of his Master. You must have felt so through your bond as you smiled, passing a piece to your other Servant.

“This chicken has conditions attached to it.” grumbled Avenger, taking a break from glaring at Berserker as you nodded.

You knew he was coming already, so his participation in this meal was arbitrary. If you wanted them _both_ to attend anything, the one you needed to convince was Cu. Typically a simple task if you prepared ahead, accomplished by your tireless industry in the kitchen and a plate of chicken. Because once Diarmuid saw you going anywhere _without_ him, well he would materialise at your side with an angry word or two. Having Avenger follow you alone was easy enough, it merely involved stating that Cu would not be there. 

“I added sweet paprika and cayenne this time, can you taste it?” you asked sweetly and Diarmuid’s eyes soften.

_Yes (Name), its wonderful. Thank you._

There was something nice about crowding around the stove, eating freshly fried food. It was calm and domestic and utterly mundane but pleasant all the same. Cu shut his eyes, maybe a tiny bit content for the first time in a long while.

\--*--

The same couldn’t be said for the charity fair. It was exactly as terrible as he had thought it would be, even worse than the festival day. Now, instead of being surrounded by civilians, they were surrounded by potential threats in the form of Heroic Spirits and magi. He could tell his fellow Servant wasn’t exactly feeling any more comfortable, the two of them tense and coiled like springs to leap at any being that made the mistake of wandering too close. Their expressions were mirrors, menacing and fearsome, a warning for others to steer clear.

“Hey, I heard they were selling mystery boxes! Did you guys want to take a look?”

They were silent. You sulk a little, can sense their agitation even if you can’t see their disgruntled faces. At least it wasn’t directed at each other for once...so that was something. You try to think of something they would actually enjoy besides killing people they hate. Such highs are fleeting and tend to leave one empty.

“So, is there anything that you guys are interested in?”

“Yes, leaving.” Cu replies immediately, as you deflate slightly.

You suppose its only to be expected. Its like trying to force that introverted friend to a loud party, they only start avoiding you for it. You don’t want to be stepping on their nerves by essentially forcing them to hang out in these kinds of places. Then again, it wasn’t like you could actually make them do anything they didn’t want to sans Command Seals, so some part of their accompaniment must have been of their own volition. Furthermore, being cooped up in your house or rampaging through the nearby countryside terrorising wildlife doesn’t seem healthy either. You know they brood when they are alone, festering on their millenia old bitterness. You bite your lip, not sure what exactly to do with them as they eye your rueful countenance.

“Let’s go over there.” Berserker finally says shortly, picking you up as Avenger bristles angrily at this gesture. “Just up there.”

Reluctantly, Diarmuid follows as the three of you soon reach the windswept hillside, shaded by a single tree. It’s calm here, a trek away from the main events although you can still hear the chattering and noise of the traffic. Cu sets you down gently, making sure the spot he’s chosen for you is dry and free of any thistles or poky plants before lying down. Not that it matters because the second his arms are gone you’ve been snatched up by your other Servant swiftly, held in his lap.

“Why’d you bring us here?” you ask at last, leaning back as Diarmuid ferrets around for nonexistent injuries or cuts on you caused by a certain someone’s spikes.

“Get some peace and quiet.” Cu explains briefly, closing his eyes and lolling in the grass. “Don’t like being around other people.”

You glance away from his voice, extrapolate that maybe that means you and Avenger count as _different_ from the strangers he so detests. Perhaps. You take it that they only join you on outings as a favour to you, or to support what vestiges of authority as a Master you have over them. It makes you feel bad for imposing your schedule on them all the time, even if it is considered lenient compared to traditional Servant relationships. You want to view them as friends, not familiars.

“Yeah? Guess I should just leave you guys alone instead of dragging you to things…”

“I didn’t say that.” snapped Berserker as Avenger squeezes you slightly in his grip, nestles you into his chest.

“I love spending time together, (Name). I just don’t like hordes of outsiders, _especially_ other Heroic Spirits.” Diarmuid explained gently, finally relaxing a little now that he had confirmed you were in good health.

Despite Avenger’s hostility towards Berserker, even he could see the pettiness in ruining this moment. Cu was acceptable when he wasn’t infringing upon your affection, which was reserved for him only. Buried beneath his layers of paranoia, he was also aware that loyalty ran deep for both of them, that you could be trusted in Cu’s care. Berserker may have been reckless at times, but he wasn’t treasonous. If you got hurt under his watch, it was the fault of his carelessness, not intentional betrayal. As long as he saw it his duty to protect you, he would. It was one of his few morals that survived the Grail mud. Frankly, it was one of the reasons Diarmuid had chosen to dig under his skin with that insult in his fit of rage at the grocery store the other week. Nonetheless, that is not to say he isn’t wary, eternally watchful for anything that might harm his precious darling. So for however long their uneasy tolerance might last, so be it.

“I see...then maybe we could just watch a movie together instead next time, would that be okay with you guys?” you propose hopefully, and days like this Avenger can’t believe you’re still too pure and good for this world.

Cu grunts in agreement somewhere to your right, and even if you haven’t managed to find them another friend, you’ve still achieved a feat today. They’re next to each other, not just civilly but actually somewhat relaxed if your bond has anything to say about it. Feeling the sunlight on your legs, the warmth across your skin...they seemed happy enough. As happy as these two could be at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for previous chapter comments, I didn't get around to replying to everyone but I really appreciate the support! Its been encouraging! Hope this chapter was liked as well and that people are having a great day :D


	15. Alters (Arguments)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments are like beta reading xD Sometimes people will say something (thanks chiisanaraincloud xD) and I’ll be like...good point, time to write another installment to fix it xD Thanks so much for comments guys, hope you are liking! I'll try to reply soon, but if its between spitting out a bunch of words and replying I typically pick posting xD
> 
> ALSO GUESS WHO JUST SPENT 360 FREE QUARTZ IN FGO THEY HAD BEEN LOVINGLY SAVING UP FOR SABER DIAR NEXT YEAR TO GET 2 COPIES OF CU ALTER. Was it worth? Probably xD 
> 
> Also also I made Diar Alter get increasingly more yandere the more he feels rejected xD He's already borderline so it just takes a little push for him to start pulling out the kidnapping handbook D: Tbh, I don't think Cu Alter would pursue Reader if Diar is around because he's the kind of guy who is already highly adverse to romance so when its tied together with "drama" like this? He wouldn't want to make himself vulnerable like that, probably wouldn't sign up for it. He might like them in this verse (or as close to like as he can get) but probs not enough to say anything, will just linger around them. Nonetheless, these ficlets are just my random thoughts and I'm a sucker for the Drama so will probably shoehorn it in anyway xD Just like with Saber Diar and Cu, I'm never going to resolve it xD
> 
> Don't know how I feel about this chapter, guess its just a character development stint ?? Hope people enjoy anyway.

“Do you take no responsibility? All you do is sit around, damage the house and cause headaches for our Master! Have the decency to blahblahblahblahblah--”

Cu continued cleaning his tail armour with the polish you had gotten him at some point, used to completely ignoring the incessant prattling of Diarmuid by now. His lifetime of refining this skill under Medb was apparently being put into good use. Hm, this stuff really did work better than he had expected, he had noticed the change within a week and as far from vain as he was, the healthy lustre was welcome.

“Are you listening to me?!” hissed Avenger in a low tone, not wanting to alert (Name) to their arguing. 

“No.”

With that, he decided to _really_ get on his fellow Servant’s nerves. After months of tuning out his annoying drawl, he deserved some payback after all. Walking out of the room in the middle of his sentence, he found you listening to the TV on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket burrito. Then, looking Diarmuid straight in the eyes, he scoops you up onto his lap, plopping his chin on top of your head with no explanation.

You’re soft, terribly breakable just as he thought you would be, ~~your smallness compared to him rather charming unfortunately~~. Its not unpleasant, even if he is just using this technique to get that annoying Servant off his back for 5 minutes. The indignant, expression of his is amusing, how his gold eyes boil with jealousy. How immature, how _insecure_. Not that he was much better, goading him like this but honestly, it wasn’t like that fanboy of yours could live his whole life shadowing you like an overprotective guard dog.

“Oh, hello.” you greet, surprised by his affection. “What’s wrong?”

“What the hell are you doing?!” snarls Avenger predictably, seemingly personally offended at his choice to coddle you. 

Such a task was unofficially, exclusively part of his job description, after all. He doesn’t reply, and you perk up anxiously at the sound of their heated voices. You feel someone try to grab you but there are arms trapping you in place, and you immediately feel like a piece of rope stuck in a tug of war game which is a panic inducing state to be in with these two.

“Stop it!” you snap sharply, and they actually do. 

You take the opportunity to squirm free, shucking off your comfy quilt and stalking off. They watch you go for maybe a moment, before once again starting up.

“Now you’re creating rifts in addition to being a deadbeat, great.” Diarmuid chastises sarcastically, reverting to trying to bully him out of this house. “If you had bothered to check up on our monthly expenses, you would see that (Name)’s budget has been thinning by the week ever since _you_ got here.”

“Well, forgive me for not being pretty enough to sell my appearance for money.” he retorts acidly, but nonetheless feels a small bubble of guilt drowned beneath his irritation at this harrassment. “Did you sleep with your hiring manager to get the job or just abuse your Love Spot?”

“Baseless accusations from a mere beast, but glad you can finally see your uselessness. Now that you understand that you are a burden around here, care to scurry back to Chaldea already?”

He doesn’t get to finish though, as you’ve slinked back into the room unnoticed by either of the squabbling men and promptly whip out a spray bottle, spritzing Avenger a couple times in the face with cold water. You round on Berserker but he reflexively ducks the jet after seeing someone else get hit.

“Enough.” you interrupt with a huff, Diarmuid too stunned for a moment and wiping the moisture from his eyes. “I thought you guys might need an adjustment period, but this fighting has gone on long enough. Look here.”

Sure, this might not be the best way to get them to calm down but your previous, gentler methods leave you ignored while they caterwaul loud enough to freak out the neighbours. Besides, even your patience has a limit. You hold up your phone, displaying an app that looks like a digital “swear jar”.

“Everytime you guys have said mean things to each other or tried to hurt someone, I’ve added ‘points’ under your name depending on how severe it was. Now that you’ve reached 100, please go enrol yourself in stress management classes, Diar.”

“ _What??_ ”

“And its out of your own pocket by the way.”

“We’re tight on finances this month and you want me to waste my income on ‘therapy’?! All while _this guy_ does nothing to contribute?!”

“...He’s doing what he can.”

“No, he’s doing literally _nothing_! And why doesn’t he have to take any ridiculous remedial course?!” he spits out furiously.

“He’s not at 100 yet, but he’ll have to if he reaches that point too. I can’t just let you attack people without consequence.”

You can feel his ire from here, but when he speaks again his tone has dropped dangerously low abruptly, almost icily indifferent in what you know is characteristic of the calm before the storm. Even Cu bristles instinctively at the shift in atmosphere, attuned to any stirrings of a physical confrontation.

“Why are you favouring him, (Name)?”

You sigh, you’re not. Its not exactly a secret that Avenger is amazingly, more volatile than a Berserker-class. This was a trend even before Cu showed up. You’d noticed his more troubling tendencies and violent inclinations, thought getting another Servant might help temper his agitation. True, this had backfired spectacularly when Chaldea had thought that this was a great opportunity to lump away their _also_ highly violent Servant. You had an inkling that this was partially due to you being his Master. No, you were almost sure it was. There was something you did, or about you that tends to incite him into overworked frenzies. 

You get flashes of it sometimes, when he’s dreaming, too lost in the lands of his legend to withhold his memories. You see strange things then. But worst of all...a fragment akin to blame. Desperation, grief, outrage. Like you had _made_ him this way. You hadn’t understood at first, simply attributed it to the faultiness of the Grail but ever since Medb had shown up...ever since Cu had told you in ultra SparkNotes 1 sentence summary form how he had been blackened…

It had been like ice in your veins. Had you wished for something terrible, in another lifetime? Because you certainly don’t recall doing anything like that to Lancer. You hadn’t even been able to acquire a Grail. The one time you hesitantly brought up your concerns with Diarmuid, asked if he was mad at you, the rush of anguish had been torrential through your link, enough that you backed off immediately. All he had said was ‘you don’t remember…”, then walked away.

Your long pause now only riles him up further, and you can sense the invisible edge nearby, threatening to send you all plummeting. But you’re too wary to reply. There’s something dangerous about him when he’s in this “mood”. Like he’s calculating things you’d rather not think about, on the verge of teetering over a precipice. It had been subtle before, the imaginary boundaries of your interactions, but you had been aware whether consciously or not. If you were too warm, he’d drown you. Too cold and he’d set you both on fire. With Cu around, the border lines seemed to grow narrower by the day.

“I’m not, I’m just worried about you. Some days, you’re so...troubled.” you finally tell him gently, feeling that simmering beneath the surface. “I think this will help you, talking to someone about your...difficulties.”

“I refuse.”

Silence falls, and you consider what to say to that. Okay. Its not like you could force him to. Yet even brushing this off with apathy would not end well, you suspected.

“You really want to help? Get rid of _him_.” he continues venomously as Cu growls.

“I understand that you two don’t see eye to eye, but he has as much a right to be here as--”

You don’t get to finish, because you can hear the front door slam to indicate that one of your Servants has strode out. You reach through your connections with them. 

“ _Finally_.” Diarmuid mutters, starting to settle now that the giant thorn in his side had at long last deigned to leave you two in peace. “So _sick_ of him lazing around like he owns the place. Why did you even accept him? He’s a liability and dangerously unstable.”

Bitterness drips from his voice in rivulets. The unspoken question grates through the unintelligible lull of the television. 

_Wasn’t I good enough? Why did you need someone else?_

“...Thought if you had a friend, you’d find things easier.”

He exhaled, a deeply tired noise.

“That’s foolish. You should know by now that all I need is you…” he turns off the news that is blaring, fingers skimming along your arms to pull you close.

“Please, promise me that you’ll _try_ to get along with him? Just a tiny bit?” you burst out, putting your hands out to halt him. “You’re always hassling him and I hate the tension it creates…”

You can’t see the way his gaze hardens, but you’re simply exhausted from all the endless fighting. The turmoil that crashes through your mind from their combined turbulence. Its draining, debilitating and utterly senseless. You feel horribly out of your depth, completely unqualified to deal with their issues in any way shape or form yet simultaneously having the responsibility of keeping them in line. Worst of all, you’re probably the person in the best position to actually help them resolve their issues instead of just burying the mountains of crap under more layers of cynicism and hostility.

Still, he doesn’t say anything, and at this point you decide just to go to bed. Is he holding his tongue as a show of restraint? Who knows. Its late, these are are full grown adults, they shouldn’t need a babysitter by now… Maybe this will blow over, like it always does and you can go back to trying to have a normal, happy life with two equally content Heroic Spirits. Or at least pretend to. You turn away.

“(Name)?”

“I’m going to sleep.”

\--*--

It’s exactly two weeks later when Berserker shows up again. Its longer than his routine vanishing periods, which had slowly become shorter over time. A week or two...its just like when he had first joined you, when he would lollop off without so much as a ‘bye’ for an unknown number of days. This round is accompanied by fluctuating dips in your mana pool, severe enough that you camped out at the university leyline for that day. He doesn’t respond to your pings or concerned questions through your link during these episodes, and you know he won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be.

During this time, Diarmuid has been steadily cheering up, emboldened by his absence to remove traces of him from around the house. He trails after you as usual, seemingly on the lookout to avoid your wayward Servant. So when you walk through the front door only for Cu to slap a wad of cash in your hand, surprised barely covers your reaction.

“Where did you get this?”

For once, Avenger and you have a similar response even if his wording is laced with the typical ‘its _you_ , see you came crawling back’ greeting interrupted only by your quiet hissing of his name in chastisement. By some kind of miracle, he does. If only perhaps because he can see something you can’t. The deep grooves on armoured spines, the gashes across his exposed chest.

The stack _feels_ like a lot and you can hear Diarmuid counting it through your bond. Its at least a few thousand.

“Won it.” he grunts.

“Where?”

“Tournaments.”

“Can you elaborate??”

He cracks his shoulder, giving you the side eye.

“...Some magi pay for the spectacle of broken bones and bloody corpses. You needed money, so I put my ‘skills’ to good use.” he explained briefly, then turned his crimson gaze onto Diarmuid. “Now _you_ can stop complaining.”

“Are you injured?” you ask immediately, reaching out.

“I’m fine.” he grumbles, but lets you check his state anyway, closing up his wounds.

“...Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. Its probably...not that legal either.” you added haltingly, the last thing you needed was him tearing through underground arenas.

“Whatever. Was getting restless anyway.” he said nonchalantly, in a way that told you he was going to do it again.

He looks to his room, and you can sense from here his intention to slinky away to sleep. Days have passed but you’re still back to square one. You latch on before he can go, pulling your two Servants as close together as they’ll let you (which is not very).

“I don’t want us to fight anymore, okay? From now on when we have a problem under this roof, we’re going to raise them _politely_ with each other. Please...why don’t we take turns to talk?”

You know traditional conflict mediation strategies are unlikely to be as effective, given how steeped in their ways they both are, but all the same these two are similar in many regards. Both of them are careful with you and took note of your blindness after all, so clearly understanding and accommodation are not beyond their means. Both are protective, in their own, overzealous ways. Once, an aggressive salesperson had followed you three blocks trying to get you to buy their items until Cu had whipped around and stabbed them in the foot with his tail spike three times before you managed to haul him off. You had healed them of course, then ushered him away, unsure about _what_ exactly they had proposed that had set him off. As for Diarmuid...he was in a league of his own regarding times he had whacked someone for standing too close to you, for asking something too personal, for stepping on your toe by accident...half of the reasons were invented by his own paranoia but he never desisted...

“Talk about what? I don’t have any issues. If you wanted me to get a job you could have just said so, instead of insulting me for not contributing. Such circuitous words are meaningless to me. Either way, I’ll continue attaining money if that is all that this molehill is about. As long as he doesn’t bother me anymore, I have nothing to say.” Cu finally says flatly, brushing himself off. Ugh, and he’d just finished buffing his armour too. No point using that concoction of yours if he was getting back in the ring any time soon though.

“Fine, just stop creating extra work for (Name), its infuriating. And keep Medb the hell away from them, she’s a menace.” Diarmuid replies sharply, pausing. 

_And stop spending time with (Name), she’s mine so **back off**. Your very presence here grates on me like a razor blade. The least you could do is make yourself scarce instead of butting into our relationship like an uncultured swine, have you no civility? Are you trying to get her to like you? I won’t let you. Disgusting._

“That’ll be enough for now.” he finishes abruptly.

It would take several hours at least for him to _begin_ to start listing his grievances with Berserker around, but he suspected they wouldn’t be well received. Mainly because even he was aware that you would see them as stemming from selfishness or possessiveness over his Master. It wasn’t like that. You of all people should know but you don’t and it rips him apart inside that you treat him like a near _stranger_ these days, like you hadn’t known him all your life. He doesn’t want to get into it. Just wishes you and him could be alone, by the gods didn’t you two deserve happiness for once? Still, he remembers your plea for him to put in some effort into playing house so if he must indulge this fragile fantasy of yours for a little while, so be it.

You blink, surprised but pleased that they were willing to compromise somewhat. Yes, this smelled like it was far from over but you ought to hold onto the small victories with these two.


	16. Alters (Reader Gets Turned into a Cat)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I write this? I don’t know, but look at this cat picture I found xD Mainly Cu Alter piece because someone made me start to like him more and also he’s been singlehandedly busting his way through the Nero Fest bosses for me xD Also also was listening to this mashup "Happy Liar" while writing and honestly the mix is one of my faves, not sure if it is relevant to Cu Alter but sort of in relation to my rendition of him at least xD I make him too soft, but oh well, its what I like so thats what is getting served at this McDonalds xD Fast fics only at this joint because I'm too lazy to proofread xD
> 
>  

It was amazing how quickly one could sober up upon threat of getting beaten to death, lamented Shakespeare as he ran through the hall frantically, holding aloft an equally panicked kitty. He careens into the infirmary, out of breath as Da Vinci and Romani pause their conversation at the sight of his disheveled form.

“Oh hello, see you’re feeling better. Thought you were sleeping off your hangover?” the other Caster asked with a raised brow as he shook his head frantically.

“HELP ME! I accidentally turned (Name) into cat and her Servants will be back from supporting Gudako’s team at any moment!” he all but screamed as you cried in agreement, feeling very sorry for yourself indeed. “I can’t seem to reverse the spell!!”

The blank stares he receives only further his terror. He had a very good idea of how overprotective your Heroic Spirits were after all, and didn’t want to be anywhere near the receiving end of their lances. Was this problem all his fault? He’d like to think not, as he had only held good intentions. But he knew they would see his head rolling before accepting _that_ excuse. This was the last time he was letting you hang around him, the risks were just too high… 

Gods, his self-preservation instincts were practically yelling at him to flee to the mountains already.

It really was a series of unfortunate events that had lead to this predicament. You had been curious about his brand of magic, asked him to show you on your first day visiting Chaldea. Flattered, he had given you a guided tour with flourish. You were easy to chat to, even against the backdrop of your two glaring bodyguards giving him evil sneers and a persistent Medb butting in every other second to try and abscond with Cu. Nonetheless, it was much easier to ignore such things after copious amounts of alcohol and when drinks were free at the welcome party, he couldn’t say no. What he did have to refuse the next morning though was going out on an errand with Gudako, pleading that she take a couple support Servants instead. Thankfully, or not in hindsight, you had encouraged Avenger and Berserker to experience a Rayshift assignment so that he might peacefully sleep the day away. That was until he heard you coughing, choking on your water bottle after everyone else had left. 

Having heard a certain rose haired queen muttering about ‘getting you out of the picture’, he had predictably feared the worst, jolting upright and trying to cleanse you of the poison. Healing was not his forte. Even less so when sporting a splitting headache and freaking out. Unknown to him, your drink _had_ been spiked by Medb, not with some lethal tincture or anything (she had standards) but upon reacting with Caster’s magic, it had produced this unexpected outcome.

“Calm down, I’m sure we’ll be able to--”

They stop short, glancing at the door. He hears it too, the telltale sound of the energy beams as the team is Rayshifted back. With a loud pop, you’re dropped abruptly onto the ground as he promptly disappears into spirit form and gets the hell out of there.

\--*--

“What did you just say?”

Dr. Romani gave an awkward laugh, fiddling with the cuff of his coat. Diarmuid was staring at him with narrowed eyes, seething but still in disbelief.

“We’ve done a checkup, and the enchantment should wear off within a few days at most and Da Vinci has already treated her so if we’re lucky, by tonight--”

“A _week_? Is this a joke?” snarled Avenger as Berserker thrashed his tail in agitation next to him. “We leave for 5 minutes and you let my Master get assaulted?! Who is responsible?!”

“Uh...well, it was an accident you see so there’s no need to be upset--” he explained hesitantly, not wanting to throw anyone under the bus. 

“Is that what I asked?! _Who did this?_ ”

Berserker can hear little scratching noises somewhere behind the curtained barrier further into the medical bay, even over his fellow Servant’s screeching. Heading towards it, he pulls back the fabric to see a small cat, sniffing and lying in a box that had been filled with various cushions and cloths. They perked up upon hearing him, then promptly ran towards the edge of their nest, lifting their front paws up in a ‘hold me’ gesture. Bewildered, he plucked the creature into his hands, holding them at eye level. 

“(Name)?”

You nodded enthusiastically, giving a triumphant meow in response upon identifying his voice as he groaned. Gods, this had the faintest markings of _her_ magic, and if this was anyone’s fault, who else would have a bitter vendetta against you thanks to him? Unlike Avenger though, he wasn’t about to go tearing off after her, such things could wait until you were out of this facility and human again. It would be much easier to maneuver if you were sequestered away somewhere out of her grimy reach. Carefully, he places you around his shoulders, pulling down his hood. Its too dangerous to leave you unattended in this state, where any careless person might just step on you if they aren’t looking. You squirm a bit before working out where you were, poking your head out from around his neck like a fluffy scarf. 

He stalks towards the exit, passing Diarmuid who has managed to squeeze the ‘guilty’ culprit out of the doctor. He rounds on Cu before he can leave, spotting his new companion.

“Is that you? Are you alright, (Name)?” he all but demands as you nod, feeling his fingers on your head. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this fixed.”

You’re still terribly adorable like this, if not hopelessly even more vulnerable. He sighs, eyeing your perch. Its not ideal, but he doesn’t want to leave you with any of these bumbling fools while he goes to hunt down Caster for his crimes and neither would he risk bringing you with him. Sure, he’s not fond of Berserker but he had a reputation around this place, and even the most callous tended to give him a wide berth. Save for Rider of course, but as long as Cu did his job of keeping her away then this arrangement would be fine. Grudgingly, he could respect his prowess in battle given their recent skirmish, his technique combining practiced familiarity with Gáe Bolg and sheer brutish strength. Enough that he dared to leave you under his protection for a short while at least while he went to drag the man responsible back to clean up this mess.

“I’m going to find Shakespeare, look after her until I get back. Make sure she gets enough cat-safe food and water, so no fatty meats or raw eggs or anything like that. Give her lots of rest and don’t let anyone run away with her. In fact, just keep her up there and don’t tell people what happened in case they had a part in this. Call me immediately if she seems ill or especially sluggish blah blah blah blahblahblah--” his list is starting to go on and on, Cu tuning out until it sounds like its about over. “And _don’t_ let that queen of yours near her.”

\--*--

“Archer.”

The last thing Emiya expects or wants is to be ambushed by a certain Berserker. He’d had enough near death experiences with his Lancer counterpart in his youth thank you very much, but it wasn’t exactly a minor task to avoid or otherwise ignore the behemoth of a man when he was heading towards him. Too late to pretend he hadn’t heard, he takes a deep breath.

“Yes?”

He’s so busy planning his escape that he doesn’t notice the kitty riding around on Cu’s shoulders, clinging onto his armour frantically.

“I require your cooking skills. This cat needs food.” he informed him bluntly, tone bored but expectant. “Can you do it?”

“...Excuse me?” 

It wasn’t that he doubted his culinary abilities or that he was particularly busy, instead he didn’t exactly want to serve this guy in case it wasn’t up to his standards. Most people didn’t make their complaints violently, but with Berserker he wasn’t so sure. After a brief pause, he glances away.

“I believe one of the other Servants also have a pet, you could probably ask them for some canned food.”

His reaction is immediate, bristling spikes and bared teeth as you bap him several times on the cheek with your toe beans to try and calm him down.

“Absolutely not, repulsive. I couldn’t give such things to her. Do you know how to make steak or not?” he bites out, temper always bubbling close to the surface, especially in light of recent events. “Its not like I won’t pay you for your time.”

“Ah...of course.” he acquiesced, wherein a handful of coins are abruptly pushed into his palm. “There’s no need--”

“I won’t be in debt to you, so take it and do a good job....” 

The unsaid ‘or else’ on the end of his sentence goes heard loud and clear regardless. With a cough, he scoots away to the kitchen, wanting to get this task over with quickly. He didn’t want to face Rin’s smarmy expression when he got back to Fuyuki about how much better he had it over the Chaldea Servants thanks to her, he just did not. He resists the urge to look back or summon his swords for self defence, a momentous feat considering how Berserker is breathing down his neck in a none too friendly way. No matter how much he lengthens his stride to hint to him that he wants some personal space, none is provided. By the time he reaches the stove, he had practically been running and felt like he was in some bad chasing horror game with how Cu trailed him like a persistent cold...

“Is it fresh? Don’t cook it with oil or season it and take out the bones, if they get cooked they might splinter when she eats.”

Archer nods vaguely, pulling out a grille and using magecraft to fully thaw his chosen slab of meat. Who knew this guy was secretly Mr. Cat Expert? It was scary having this shadow hovering over his shoulder regaling him with pet dieting facts. Consequently, he started flying around the kitchen like he was on the finals of Masterchef and there was only 3 minutes remaining on the clock. You meowed out sympathetically, unable to communicate beyond snuffling about and pawing Cu’s head. Getting used to this body was one thing, but trying to navigate it blind was a premium challenge indeed.

He barely lets the finished steak rest before chucking it onto the dining table, as Cu gave him a nasty look. 

“You’re not going to use a spell to cool it--?” he doesn’t get to finish his complaint, because that cat of his interrupts by rubbing up against him and tickling his nose with their tail. He expected that thing to have been catapulted off him by now but instead he huffs and plops it down gently.

He’s stacked up a bunch of books on the chair so his cat can eat from the table like a person, its the strangest thing watching him cut up the meat into bite sized cubes while willing it to go from hot to warm for his kitty by sheer force of impatience. Seems like he has a soft spot after all. Was this his therapy pet? Archer had heard of some trials like that in the past...He watches out of the corner of his eye as Berserker carefully guides the kitty into eating the food. The fluffball is clapping their hands after the first mouthful, meowing out melodically and tapping the table appreciatively, purring and pointing in his general direction. Cu grunts in response.

“Think she likes it.” he translates aloud to no one in particular, and its probably as close as he’s going to get to a ‘thank you’.

\--*--

This Shakespeare guy must have Presence Concealment if its taking this long for Diarmuid to wring him out (close, he has Self-Preservation Rank B), Berserker muses as he lets you listen to TV in his guest room. He’s procured a small cloth so that you can resume your typical burrito behaviour in front of the screen but on his lap instead of the cushions. Only so he can make sure you don’t fall off the couch, of course.

Its getting late though, and you’re starting to curl in on yourself, flopping back on him contently. He doesn’t know if you need to brush your teeth or groom your fur or whatever but supposes that skipping your routine for one night isn’t going to kill you. With this in mind, he transfers you to the pillow on his bed and lies down.

Normally he wouldn’t push the barriers of your relationship by presuming to share a bed, but when you’re an animal he feels little such reservations. He needed to be nearby if you needed anything in the middle of the night anyway. With that in mind, he shuts his eyes.

\--*--

Its a few hours later when he is roused. The moment he feels shifting against him, Cu snaps awake, alert instantly. But there is no looming threat, its just you, in full human form once again. For lack of a decently sized blanket you’ve slowly started nestling yourself into the nearest heat source in your sleep, which happens to be him. His instinctive reaction is to roll out of bed, now that his mission of looking after his Master until they were returned to their former state was complete. He ought to inform Avenger as well. Yet for whatever reason, he does neither and instead stays, staring at your peaceful features and wondering how on earth he ended up here, with something like you cosseted against his chest. The last person who was this close to him like this...was Medb. And upon feeling her sticky fingers around his waist he had immediately separated their bodies by fending her away from him with his tail. He doesn’t feel that urge now, no sickening bile rising in his throat or irritation. Instead, he reaches out, almost brushing a few loose strands of hair from your face but stopping short.

This isn’t anything he would want to deal with outside of the dim dusk lighting of Chaldea’s artificial night. He didn’t want to have to explain or acknowledge this _weakness_ of his, this terrifying fragility you had managed to instill in him. Its disgusting, pathetic and everything he hates but like a disease it spreads its corruption through his heart. Its too easy to give into it, so he does, just for these inconsequential moments, where no one knows but him. When erasure is as simple as forgetting it ever happened. A part of him screams to just leave, that to remain was only to hurt himself because you would never like let alone love someone like him. Not with Diarmuid stalking around you at all times. He doesn’t need this drama in his life, false hope and unnecessary competition…

Still, still he wraps his arms around you, just to sate his curiosity. To know what its like to have such softness against his skin, to feel you tucked away safe and protected in his grasp. To pretend someone cares about him guilelessly, enough to cut through his self loathing at least just a little. After all, during that brief period between waking and dreaming, his faroff fantasies didn’t seem so ridiculous or reprehensible, became easier to indulge. Your gentle breathing tickles his neck, the heat of your body filling him with affection for someone he couldn’t have. Your bond burns. Your trust and fondness of him mere taunts as opposed to sources of comfort. It hurts, and in that second he wants and wants and wants--

What exactly, he isn’t sure. To tear you apart maybe, or to dig his claws in so that no one else could touch you ever again. To hold you and cling, to demand devotion and endearment for all you had afflicted him with. Perhaps his desires are more carnal instead, and he longs to pin you beneath him effortlessly, his weight pressing down on you, stifling and unbearable. That he might devour you entirely, mark you as his. He wonders at your expression of shock or submission if he were to claim you, what pretty little sounds you might make if he were to use you to satiate his lust during his heats.

He does none of these things, just stares at your vulnerable form snuggled obliviously against a beast. He has half the mind to nip you awake but instead settles for shutting his eyes, pretending to rest until you awake yourself. Just extending this nothing moment for however long it might last.


	17. Cu Chulainn Alter | Berserker (Nightmares)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just magically made them start getting along, screw it xD I go against my own headcanons for these two and how I’ve written them xD Okay, so every fluff/not hostile scenario when they are not getting into slappy fights with each other is the fantasy AU where they are able to tolerate sharing xD More Cu Alter because I love him even more everytime he gets me through another Nerofest Boss xD
> 
> Also, thank you so much for comments guys! Will reply when I get the chance! Banged this chapter out before I head off for a bit so hope y'all enjoy my take on his character. Its super rushed and OOC, but I'll edit when I get back esp. if people beta, thanks! :D

He’s drowning again, beneath black waves, choking on ichor and blood. The spines of armour that is both his and not cut his flesh into ribbons as below, he glimpses a shadow of the leviathan of the deep. Its gaping maw is filled with rows of razor fangs that are blurred in the salt of the sea--

Something is reaching for him, not horrifying or corrupt as the horror he is enveloped in. Warmth, a gentle light from above the surface. He struggles for salvation like a man dying, can’t bear to inhale anymore burning water, desperate to escape what comes next. He wakes abruptly, to your hand on his shoulder, magic flowing into his circuits like a soothing melody, quiet and calm. His claws rip the sheets when his fists unclench and he hates this. Hates the hardened scales across his skin, wants to tear them out until he’s raw, until he bleeds to death. This memento of his past protects his body as much as it pulls asunder his mind and heart.

He jerks upright, dislodging your gentle hold and immediately that crawling terror returns tenfold. He wants to scream, days like this he resents ever being born more than an animal, trapped by the embers of fabricated life. That this existence of his was merely the whim of a queen disgusted him, and he loathed the fibre of his being more than he could possibly detest anyone else. You touch the back of his hand again, and relief floods his veins as the edge of his pain is dulled. You take a long, deep breath and subconsciously he follows.

“Shh, shh.” you hush him softly, but anxiously. He can tell.

He needs to get out of here, wants to _run_. Flee somewhere he can just forget himself, lose the weight of his tragedy and sins. If he stands still too long...the grief threatens to swallow him alive. It’s a vast emptiness, a sheer desolation. When he dares stop, these memories and thoughts strangle the air from his lungs. Fleeting questions of what he might have had, the implications of what he had done, who he was. A mere puppet brought to life for some selfish fantasy? Man or machine? It was a terrifying prospect, to be human. To have to consider anything akin to regret. The beasts of the kingdom were beholden to no such burdens, and he longed for the solace of their indifference.

Familiar panic and anguish were starting to rise, as he tensed, scrabbling for a distraction, for--

He sees your embrace more than he feels it, the heat from your arms and the way your mana ebbs and flows, trying to cool the thousand year old fire erupting within him. Its an impossible feat, simply too momentous a task. That inferno had never died, had been blazing since his first dawn, growing under Medb’s oblivious, obsessive gaze until he could do little other than turn to ashes himself. It was easier, being a monster. Creatures had no duties, no morals.

Still, even a hound could sense softness, was trained to observe weakness. That’s how he could find comfort in your presence. You were weak. Perhaps his instincts told him you could not hurt him, and that’s why he liked you. They were wrong of course. For the logical part of his mind was perceptive to the danger of this tie to you...could tell that no one would be able to damage him more than you. Because he’d made a fatal mistake, started to care even when every sign in the universe begged him not to. He’d stayed away, promised and bargained with himself not to let himself fall into such an obvious trap all for nought.

He stands, can’t remain here for a second longer. Even sleep was no escape, would only cast him back into the inky depths. You stare at him, waiting for an indication of his intent, listening to his unspoken words.

_Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic._

He knows exactly how this will happen. What it will be like to vanish into the wilderness for a couple weeks, darting beneath the trees. Overhead, the sun’s rays and the moonlight are cold, apathetic. Its never enough to occupy his mind completely. Eventually, his body shifts into autopilot, dodging around boulders and leaping across rivers with practiced ease. Then...it all starts seeping back again like poison, weeping down through his flimsy walls, oozing through the cracks of his fractured barriers. He’ll wait though, continue hoping that it’ll leave on its own. Even as the nightmares plague him by day, but at least unable to reach him in his dreams. At last, when he realises how close he is to the edge, he’ll come home. Just show up again one day like nothing ever happened, but always when he knows you’re still awake. Always just barely in time. 

You’ll fuss over him, worried and concerned as he gives grunts of acknowledgement in response while watching you intently. He’ll invent tasks for himself, to divert his consciousness from sliding backwards. It’s a little easier to swim when you’re there, giving him something else to focus on. Maybe it’ll be how you would make chicken for dinner, or have moved around the knick knacks of the house. You’ll usually have washed his sheets again, and will talk to him quietly when he collapses onto them. It’s your brand of magecraft, he knows but appreciates it all the same. Forgetting, the serenity of nothingness. Exhausted, he’ll sleep for days, .

Thankfully, Diarmuid leaves him alone during these episodes. Understands enough about what its like fighting the demons of the past. They do have a large calendar pinned up in the living room though, unbeknownst to you. Avenger makes sure to mark on it clearly what days he feels Cu has been stealing away your attention. He then promptly pens out the dates he expects Berserker to disappear and begone from his (and your) sight in repayment, his alone time with their Master essentially. Sometimes he charges interest by adding extra days for himself, citing reasons like ‘I’ve been here longer’ and ‘(Name) is mine’. It’s not the most elegant ‘taking turns’ system, but its preferable to the constant squabbling and wariness they had over when the other might just decide to whack them with a spear.

He looks to the door, doesn’t want to repeat this experience, yet neither can he stay cooped up. Can’t be...alone right now. Picking you up slowly, he heads out.

\--*--

The street lights flash by, streaking like golden stars from his speed. You’re tucked against him to ward off the chill, and he can feel your heartbeat against his, takes care to keep you adjusted in his grip, to navigate to a specific location instead of just charging away from it all. He finally arrives at the outcrop, at the edge of the city. He realises belatedly that there is little of interest here for you, save for the crickets song. You can’t see how the town stretches out like a luminous grid, like scattered stars towards the faroff mountains. Or how above, the constellations aren’t shrouded and dim anymore but clear enough that they are coloured in between with galaxies.

So he just rests his chin on top of your head instead, nestling you against his chest and keeping you warm.

“...Are you alright, Cu?” 

It’s the first time you spoken since you left, and he hums non committedly. No, he’s not okay, and days like these he wonders if he ever will be. But therein lies the brilliance of change. Because he’s realised that somewhere along the line, his mindset has shifted from _knowing_ he could never move on, never escape to hoping, hesitantly believing in that distant horizon where he’d finally find peace. It’s hadn’t been all at once, just drop by drop. Often he still slinks back into his bitterness, berates the feathered thing in his chest that has started reaching out for freedom. Why lie to yourself? It only destroys you later...and yet, and yet he can’t help but think-- Maybe, there is a chance. To actually be able to...leave that piece of himself behind, to struggle beyond the trauma. 

He doesn’t think much of himself...but you do. And he trusts _you_. Faith...its such a risky thing to give. Least of all to mortals, destined to perish. Its been a long time...but around you, he thinks he feels something akin to contentment again. To know that you value and care about him, that he’s worth the time and effort you put into trying to get him to be happy. He likes that, and its been a long time since the world was coated in anything other than apathy. The self-loathing recedes just a tad. It’s replaced by how silky your hair is against his skin, how you fit perfectly against him or how much he enjoys the guileless affection you offer.

So he doesn’t say anything mawkish or overly sentimental, anything so unlike him. Instead, he just says what he has observed, what is true to him. It’s vague, ambiguous and he’s not sure if you know what he means, but even if you don’t, he’s sure you can see how he _feels_.

“You make me forget.”

\--*--

“I didn’t even spend one whole day with them…”

Diarmuid narrowed his eyes, the two of them gathered around the paper displaying the month of September on the wall. Clear “Cu” had been written over the entire past week and “Diar” over today onwards for the next fortnight. 

“You took them out in the middle of the night, _without_ informing me. That incurs a penalty.” he informed him airily, already starting to shoot him nasty looks for still being here in case you woke up soon. “Now can you leave?”

“Why? Because you get jealous when anyone else so much as breathes near them?”

“Yes. Now get lost.”

He growls, stalking over and adding his name on today and tomorrow as well.

“Half day each.” he proposes flatly, tail lashing behind him.

From how easily Diarmuid agrees, he suspects he’s just been a victim of the ‘door in the face’ persuasion technique.


	18. Alters (Merlin's Rivalry Solutions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tag warnings:** NSFW mentions, yandere elements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M BACK. IN HONOUR OF MERLIN’S SUMMONING BANNER IN FGO CURRENTLY, HE SHALL HAVE A CAMEO.
> 
> Is this OOC for them? Absolutely, but self indulgence all the way toot toot xD The catch all explanation being..Merlin’s magic, bam, done xD Also, I burned up half my archive to get my Cu Alter to Lvl 100 :’) So if anyone wants my FGO friend code, feel free to drop me a line. Vague spoilers for Diar Alter’s backstory in this? I probably won’t ever get to it in my other fic though so I don’t mind revealing more in this spin off. Also also, managed to dodge the NSFW like a pro at this stage xD AND ANOTHER THING, BECAUSE I NEVER STOP RAMBLING is that I’ve decided to get around the “snippets” of fics I have problem (when they aren’t long enough to make a whole chapter), by just tacking them on at the end of full chapters as bonuses. I don't tag or proofread anything properly in this trashpile either so that I know that my Readers are committed to sorting through the mess >:D (I'm joking, I'm just lazy) xD Thanks for comments last time and hope for some this chapter, love reading the thoughts you guys have! <3

When Merlin had first flounced up to you, cattish grin going unseen but definitely heard in his tone, you had been wary if not hopeful, had no reason not to trust him. Casters were supposed to be wise, calm and intelligent after all and you were sure he was these things. Whether he chose to display these characteristics or provide his aid was another matter. You should have known better, sure it might have been very funny for him but frankly you thought his quick fix did quite the opposite of what he had advertised. Besides, he wasn’t even there to witness anything so you don’t know if he even got to gobble up the emotions from the incident.

“I had to come see you for myself, you have quite a reputation around Chaldea after all for having...volatile Servants.” he tells you lightly, as you cough awkwardly. “But not to worry! For I am here to provide a solution upon hearing of your troubles, (Name).”

“Really? Uh...what kind of solution?”

An item is put into your hand, and after feeling the wooden edges you think you’ve identified it. A whistle? You weren’t sure if screeching at them like two chickens having a pecking fight was going to improve their relationship...

“Now, when they’re arguing you don’t have to strain your voice to be heard! Just blow this if they are having a big argument, I’ve specially enchanted it to _distract_ them.” he informs you gleefully, and the way he stresses that word makes you uneasy.

Still, you don’t want to be rude and suppose it is a thoughtful gesture in his own weird way. You put it to your lips, letting out a high ‘beep’ that isn’t too loud or too soft. In addition to your water spritzer, you were starting to look like a sports coach or something soon. Merlin handily waves away the resulting illusion that forms after your practice trial, unbeknownst to you.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

\--*--

It doesn’t take long for a spat to spring up between them, maybe a few days since you’ve returned home give or take. Nearly a new record...

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Cu doesn’t reply, primly ignoring Avenger as was his specialty. Yes, apparently it was petty’o clock already once again. Having overheard Diarmuid discussing having him dumped off at Chaldea with Olga Marie during your most recent trip there, he had swiftly decided to further entrench himself in your life just to annoy him. It was clear that the other Servant would never accept his presence, so backing off would only increase his persistence. No, the best defence was a good offense. This was his reasoning for lounging about in your bed as evening fell, so that a certain someone would get the message not to infringe upon his affairs lest the favour be returned.

“That’s (Name)’s bed. Go dirty your own.” he accused sharply, storming close but just out of range of his tail that wash lashing at the air in warning. “Disgusting. You had better change the sheets before she gets here.”

He ignores the fuming man, readjusts himself to fit more entirely onto the mattress. It’s a little small for him, but Diarmuid’s been squeezing onto it with you for ages and its only meant for one person. For whatever reason, the thought of anyone else spooning you lovingly sends a jolt of tightness to his chest. It shouldn’t, its a stupid thing to feel and he refuses to even acknowledge such lowly emotions like ~~envy~~. These sentiments are undeserved and useless, pathetic and despicable… Its hard though, when the pillow smells like your shampoo, floral and light. Its a sweet scent, comforting and intoxicating.

“I’m talking to you, beast!” he snarls irritably as Berserker rolls his eyes.

Sensing trouble, you materialise in the doorway, spray bottle and newly acquired whistle in hand. You armaments against their scuffles that broke out fairly frequently.

“Hey, hey. It’s way too late for shenanigans now guys. What seems to be the problem?” you ask, their glares and acidic moods palpable.

“He’s contaminating your sheets with his filth! He runs around the wilderness all day, doesn’t shower then comes home and creates a mess!” Diarmuid spits out venomously at once.

“I shifted into spirit form to clean up.” he retorts boredly, finally getting to his feet with narrowed eyes. “Besides, its never an issue when you do the same. You prance around acting like (Name) is all yours when she’s not, you’re just a sad, deluded man who is too insecure to accept that truth. You’re so terrified that you won’t be accepted by her that you’ve convinced yourself its not possible when its already happened.”

“That’s rich coming from Medb’s lap dog who wasted their entire existence bending over to her every whim. Bet you enjoyed licking her boots or letting her walk all over you, hound. Your entire life is a farce, meaningless and miserable. You’re merely the product of her lustful fantasies, not even a person or an animal, just an effigy scrounging around for other people’s happiness, hoping they’ll deign to toss you a shred of dignity since you clearly have none of your own.”

“Guys, please let’s not fight…”

This plea goes ignored.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, not a situation you could splash them with water to simmer them down. You imagine them staring at each other bitterly, muscles taut like springs and ready to launch them into combat, their seething fury burns beneath your bond as your mana threatens to spill over into their Noble Phantasms. You thought their relationship had been improving but supposed that such a process would have its own ups and downs, especially given that you didn’t consider yourself particularly qualified to handle these two. They refused to go to therapy, or talk about their problems that much. It either worked them up into a frenzy or made them retreat into themselves. It scares them, you think. Discussing the tragedies of their past, the backdraft through a door that has been closed for several thousand years.

“I’ve tolerated your insufferable insolence long enough--”

Hesitantly, you lift the whistle up. What magic had Caster imbued this with? Something powerful enough to stop them from destroying your house hopefully...? With a deep breath, you let out a pitched trill through the little device. Instinctively, they whip around to face you at such a foreign sound. 

For a second, you wonder whether they have both simultaneously had heart attacks, because that’s what it feels like through your link. Surging shock, disbelief and confusion. This lasts less than a moment, because the next they are both pouncing on you. You screech (with your own lungs this time), feeling like those poor fish in Finding Nemo caught between the armies of hungry seagulls. They’re yelling at you, the din rendering their words incomprehensible as they drown you in blankets and their own capes or jackets, grabbing you and trying to run off.

“AHHHHH, STOP IT!” you shout in panic, with no idea what the heck is going on but at least they stop yanking at you so much.

“Cu, get out!” orders Diarmuid angrily, although you can hear that he’s a touch flustered of all things. 

He receives a growl in response, as they continue trying to tug you to them. You flail in the chaos, letting out a flashbang spell in the scramble but it only makes them dig their fingers in as not to lose you in the blinding light. They are oddly frantic, rifling through your open connection 

“Let. Go.” Berserker snaps lowly, crimson eyes flashing and sharpened teeth bared.

“BOTH OF YOU LET GO! UN _HAND_ ME!”

They don’t exactly listen, but you manage to squirm free enough to be herded over to the bed, where you’re promptly bundled up in the covers. You sit there completely still for a long moment, just to make sure they aren’t going to start snatching you up again in some tug of war. 

“(Name), what’s wrong?” Diarmuid asks, voice strained, distressed. “Why are you wearing _that_?”

“What? I don’t know what is happening!”

They are starting to paw at you again, smoothing over your hair and you raise your arms to fend them away with slaps to their wandering hands. There’s something beneath their worry...and you can’t really understand why they would be aroused now of all times. You quickly checked yourself, but nothing seemed out of place from touch. Then again...maybe something happened that you couldn’t see?

“...What does it look like I’m wearing?” you venture uncertainly, half not wanting to know.

Your two Servants pause in their fondling, staring. Well at least Merlin was right about them not being at each other’s throat’s temporarily...but at what cost? They respond at the same time.

“A maid outfit.”

“A bunny girl costume.”

They don’t mention the bold letters across the bust of your top that reads ‘Sharing is Caring~’, because its the last thing on their minds. Or the fact that instead of a whistle they heard you call for help. You sink into your pool of blankets, embarrassed. That Caster…You supposed you ought to explain his involvement in all this. He could apparently even mould his magecraft to make them see different things…

“Well, I’m not wearing either of those things.” you pipe up pointedly. “It’s probably due to Merlin’s Illusionism.”

“What does Caster have to do with this?” questions Diarmuid immediately, bristling at the mention of that skeevy half-incubus.

“He passed me this whistle, said it would stop you two from fighting. I mean, technically it did…” you explained exhaustedly. “I just didn’t want you guys to get violent. I care about you both deeply, could we try again to all get along?”

Your request can’t possibly hold much authority given your burrito state and the uniform they are seeing underneath, but for once they let it slide, astoundingly. Probably too horny to refuse, or pay attention you suspected. Diarmuid is too indignant and horrified at the fact that the local Chaldea creep has somehow managed to create such a realistic image of you in such clothing. Damned Clairvoyance...was his kink that obvious? The long fishnet stockings, the low cut and short frilly skirt… Gods knew what Cu was seeing and a burst of protectiveness exploded in his chest. That you had seeked help from Merlin about their rivalry tasted like ash on his tongue… he'd deal with that Servant later. He quickly gathered you up into his arms, glaring at Berserker who had been inching close, licking his lips with glazed and heavy eyes. 

Absolutely not. If anyone was getting you, it was him. He had loved you for longer, and more than this shadow ever could. You were _made_ for him while Berserker was Medb’s plaything, didn’t deserve your affections. He knows. Knows that for your other Servant, you just happen to be the one who found him in this vulnerable state, the first to show him kindness in eons. You weren’t special to him, it could have been any compassionate Master. He could find someone else. But he would never love anyone as much as he loved you, he had _chosen_ you all those millenia ago, on windswept shores and jagged Irish cliffsides. Or maybe you had chosen him. He’s aware, of the paradox of his own existence, aware that this incarnation of him is an anomaly but he doesn’t care. Because just as Medb had carved Cu out of a Grail, the Sea of Time had burned you into his heart. Yes, it was an accident as opposed to a specific wish but such technicalities were trivial in light of his overwhelming need to be the most important person in your life. Yet when you appeal once again in that sweet way of yours, he’s powerless to resist.

“Please?”

He grumbles, following you down onto the mattress as you unfurl the sheets from yourself to spread out across the bed again. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, tucking you against his chest but doesn’t do more than inhale deeply when Cu curls up on your other side. A miracle, this truce. All the same, there’s a lot of groping going on that night.

\--*--

**Bonus:**

“Onwards, my good Irish warriors!” you chirp happily from atop Cu’s shoulders as you fumble about hanging up the sheer fabric so that it draped down like curtains.

It’s a fruitless task building this pillow fort, but you seem excited so they embrace it for your sake. Supposedly it was started from your claim that if they were all bunking in your room now, you needed a bigger sleeping area but since you couldn’t see and they didn’t know what this ‘fortress’ was supposed to look like the entire place had been turned into a nest of cushions and blankets. 

Still, you’re laughing, eyes shining and such things are precious to them after all.

Like an insect drawn to a bulb, Berserker found himself trapped in the glass bowl beneath. Dazed by the light, a luminescence too foreign, too wondrous for someone who dwells in the darkness. He can’t change who he is, but there are moments...fleeting seconds where he realises that he isn’t tearing himself apart inside. Just for a while. 

You tap him to be let down as you sprawl out onto the mattress, gazing nowhere, basking in the waveless lull of your bond with them, the glimmer of gold and a loyalty beyond faith. He flops over nearby, resting his head on your stomach without saying anything. Quickly stealing the spot of course, before Avenger can squeeze his way over.

“Hey there.” you greet quietly as Cu shuts his eyes to the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair gently.


	19. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Cyberpunk AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tag Warnings:** Delusional yandere, implied non-con elements?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I watched a couple clips of that Alita movie then stole the plot to bang this out xD If it isn't already obvious from my bias, Saber and Berserker are my faves and so is yandere :') This is a new style I'm trying similar to how I write for other fandoms, so let me know if you like it :D I'm always hungry for comments especially in a fandom that seems more quiet than my last one orz 
> 
> Anyway, hope the people who are around are having a good day! :D

When you saw the faint glow beneath the rubble, you had thought it the trick of the light, hoped it to be a salvageable part you might be able to use. Carefully, for graceful things were wont to shatter in ruins like these, you extricated it from the rubbish, tucked it away to take home. It was like nothing you had seen before, the glyph instricate and wondrous. Ancient. Clearly damaged, but as you had worked late into the night on your newest treasure, you had hopes it wouldn’t be that way for long.

\--*--

When he awakens, materialises from the Saint Graph abruptly to a dark room illuminated by only moonlight, he finds that he is not alone. Rather there is someone scrambling into consciousness next to him, standing up from the table they had been slumped over and shielding their eyes from the luminescence of his summoning. He stares, watches the way your eyes are laced with awe and amazement at his visage through your evident tiredness. Like he was something special, no...a _miracle_.

“Hi there.” you whisper gently, reaching out before hesitating just shy of touching his arm. “How do you feel? Are you in any pain? Discomfort?”

“...There is none, I am well. Thank you for your concern, I apologise if this is rude but do we know each other?” he replies after a moment, giving a slightly guilty cough as you shake your head.

“No, no we’ve never met. I’m (Name).” you introduced brightly and it puts him at ease, for whatever reason.

“I see...do you know who I am?”

You blink, clearly surprised before smiling that smile of yours, something beautiful.

“I was hoping you could tell me. I found that, device in the Outlands and thought it might be valuable if I fixed it up but out came you...I’ve not seen anything like it.” you explain as he nods, trying to recall something, anything. “But its old, from before the Fall. I think...this might even be magic. It’s something we haven’t seen in hundreds of years.”

“Oh...well, I can’t remember anything. It’s blank. I don’t even know my own name.” he admits slowly, withdrawing into himself slightly as you reach, hands warm and soft against his.

“It’s alright, maybe it will come back to you in time. And if not, you can start afresh here.” your gaze is sympathetic, and he thinks that of anyone he could have met, you were one of his luckiest finds. “Are you hungry? No? Tomorrow, there’s a whole world out here for you to discover.”

\--*--

“I run a clinic, in a place like this not many can afford healthcare. But they pay what they can when they get the credits. Other than that, I sell scrap from the junkyard or Outlands to make ends meet.”

He follows you through the busy streets, dusty and crowded with vehicles and people jostling through the narrow lanes. He wonders how he knows these conditions are shabby, dystopic and harsh. He keeps you close, doesn’t want to get lost. You’d made him cover up his armour with a brown cloak, but even then he’s getting stares, looks different from the others here. You start climbing up the side of a tower with dirt walls and a crumbling roof, gesturing. When he clambers to your side again, he finds you laying back, looking up.

“Impressive, isn’t it? The best view in town.”

He doesn’t turn away from you, the faraway, wistful gaze you hold. He can see for kilometers around, the ocean of metal and trash, the huts and brown buildings that stretch on and on, silhouetted by unlit neon signs or sewer entrances. He feels immense sadness at this sight, but supposes that a high up view is better than a ground level one.

“In its own way.” he responds non-committedly as you chuckle, pointing towards the sun and clouds.

“Not this cesspit, _that_.” you tell him, and in the distance, he can see a floating island held aloft by enormous sprawling cables that are anchored into the earth beneath, a glimmering metropolis upon its shoulders. “The city in the sky, its where all this junk comes from. Everyone wants to be there instead of here…”

“Why don’t you go then?” he asks curiously, and you give a wry bark of laughter.

“Were it so easy... Those ‘golden’ tickets by aircraft cost an arm and a leg, figuratively of course, their price is far greater. Life is cheap down here. Don’t know of anyone that has actually afforded it, but I suppose those in the nicer districts might have been able to scrape together an amount. Still, gotta hold onto _something_ in this trash yard, a goal, a dream. Wonder what it would be like to fly in one of those sabres” you said with a sigh, and he touches your shoulder consolingly, wishes you wouldn’t look so defeated. “Sorry I...uh spawned you in this dump. With your apparel, you look like you’d be much better suited for up there. If I had sold that Saint Graph as you called it, maybe you’d already be living the high life.”

“No! Nonsense.” he interrupts quickly, aghast that you would even suggest pawning him off, even if you perceived it for his own good. “You have been kind to me, and for that I would not give my loyalty to any other.” 

He captures both your hands in his grip, dips his head solemnly.

“(Name), if that pass means so much to you, I vow I will do my utmost to attain one for you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the sentiment…”

He can tell you don’t think him capable, from the way you rub your thumbs over the back of his hand empathetically. Like he was well intentioned if not naive. You reach into your bag, hand him a wrapped packet you had prepared for lunch.

“Did you have a name for yourself in mind by the way?” you piped up suddenly, the mood lightening now that you were changing topics. Could marvel at the fact that he was here at all instead of unchangeable circumstances of fate. He likes how your tone and eyes soften for him, it makes him feel prized and important. He wants you to know he thinks that way about you too.

He paused in unwrapping the paper, mulls over what you’ve just told him.

“I’ll be your Saber, your way out of his place.”

\--*--

_“Best not to be out after dark, it isn’t safe so be sure to be home before then, hm? I don’t want you to get harassed.”_

He narrows his eyes, watches you sneak out after you think he’s asleep. He’d seen you go the previous night too, watched you return exhausted and scuffed, like you’d been running around or hiding in rank corners all night. Carefully, he stalks you through the quiet roads and alleys, easily leaping across rooftops or ducking behind corners. You reach some kind of bar, but the person outside speaks before you can enter.

“Well, well, back again are we?” the colossal cyborg figure taunts, as you hold up a card, credits.

“I have the amount. I need access to the archive records.” you request but they only chortle, snatching your offering.

“I’ll be taking that. You see my friends and I _could_ accept this, then tell you what an idiot you had to be for believing that _we_ would have the credentials to get that information to you, or we could do both and kill you. Spinal cords are selling for a pretty price on the black market these days.”

You back up as he raises his steel hand, a weapon with pointed knives for fingers.

“Wait! This is important, I think there’s a way to bring Magecraft back to this world and I need--!”

Those metal claws reach out to close around your throat, and it is as if all the breath has been crushed out of Saber’s chest. You’re going to die. He can’t let that happen, you’re _his_. His to protect, his to serve and fight for. That you should be so senselessly even touched by something so unworthy makes him furious. They’re going to murder you and the surge of rage is all he needs to dart out. It’s instinctive, the pull of mana from within as two blades form in his palms, their red and gold weight familiar and steady. In a moment, he’s sliced the head off your assailant cleanly, dispatched him with practiced ease and pried his bloody talons off from you as you’re cradled in his hold.

“(Name), are you okay!?” he demands frantically, as you cough, clinging to him. “Are you hurt?”

He’s here, and you’re thankful through your haze of fear, your near death experience. It had been a risk to come here, but ever since you had found him, you had an inkling that he could be the key to something greater. To the restoration of old magic, his presence was the proof of its continued existence. With that kind of power, surely the land could be rejuvenated? People wouldn’t have to scrounge through his garbage anymore. Yet...things were never so simple. The robotic corpse of his last adversary slumps over, slamming into the ground nearby. He was a warrior. The swiftness with which he had disposed of such an armoured and skilled opponent...there was no doubt. As great as it was to have such a guard, you couldn’t help but think this was an ominous sign for things to come.

“...I’m fine...thank you, Saber.”

You shut your eyes, let him carry you all the way back home.

\--*--

“I’m alright, its okay Saber!”

He whines, won’t leave you alone. He stalks you everywhere like a persistent shadow. After bandaging your wound, he had promptly huddled over your bed anxiously for the rest of the night. In fact, he’s been doing that for the whole month with no signs of stopping soon.

“You need rest, come’on.” you suggest as he maintains his vigil, glaring at the window at any stray noise.

He doesn’t, he realises. Feels no depreciation in his awareness or abilities despite the sleepless nights. But the thought of cuddling up to you is appealing enough to tear him from his post. Still sulking, he crawls beneath the covers with you at last, nestling you against him tenderly. He had almost lost you, and the image of you dangling from that bladed grip is haunting. Sensing his distress, you stroke his hair as he loses himself to the fleeting comfort your embrace provides.

\--*--

It’s a few months later, when it all comes crashing down, when you realise that messing with unknown artifacts had consequences.

“(Name), I want to show you something!”

You giggle at how thrilled he looks, practically bouncing his way to your bedroom and impatiently poking his head out to see if you were coming. He brings forth a card, slots it into the reader on your desk and turns to you, eyes shining with excitement and adoration. You flinch when the number flashes up. You don’t believe it, recount the numbers a few times because he has _thousands and thousands_ of credits saved up.

“....H-how did you get so much money?” you ask quietly, almost afraid of his answer but he’s beaming, fluffing around you happily.

“(Name) isn’t it wonderful? They are all for you! So we can live a luxurious life away from this trash heap, it’s only been a few months but at this rate, we’ll have enough soon. We’ll be able to buy a ticket up to the city in the sky!” he chirps, grabbing your hands and pulling you flush against his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t wait, I hate seeing you trapped in this disgusting place day after day…”

“Where did you get this cash?” you repeat anxiously and he wilts upon hearing how strained your tone is, cups the side of your face.

“...Bounty hunting, I’ve been collecting the heads of wanted criminals for cash.” he finally informs you matter-of-factly, as if he wasn’t just a serial killer under a different label. “That day, when that machine man attacked you...I remember seeing his face on the posters. And I thought of how dangerous it is for you to be out there, with the risk of running into any one of these creatures. I knew I had to cull their numbers, and when I saw how much this could make...it was the perfect solution.”

“Oh Saber…” your murmur, and he clutches you tighter at how your eyes turn so pained, as if he had injured you personally. 

“What’s wrong?” he questions instantly, leaning down over you. “Are you afraid? Don’t worry, I’ll always protect you…”

“Saber that’s blood money. I can’t take it. I wanted to see the world above but not when its paid for in the lives of others.” you exclaimed, pushing out of his hold as he rushes after you. “...I need to be alone please.”

“I...I just wanted to make you happy.” he whispers inaudibly, trailing after you desperately. “You’ve been good to me and I wanted to repay that debt. Wasn’t it your dream? I want to be with you…”

“...Okay, I know. Did you think it was wrong though? Killing those people?” you question abruptly and he wishes you would hug him now, reassure him that he was your one and only and promise that you wouldn’t never stop loving him. 

Instead, your tone is exhausted and sharp, your gaze slides off him to the crowded shelves of scrap parts, to the single yellow bulb above or to the glass window and view outside. He hates it. He longs for your affection more than anything else yet you turn away and its unbearable, utterly insufferable _not_ to have you in his arms. He creeps closer, barely restraining himself from squestering you away somewhere safe, somewhere you’d be _his_ alone. He doesn’t want to lie, not to you...if anyone should understand him it would be (Name) and he knows you’ll come around in time.

“I wasn’t thinking about it. They were means to an end, I felt neither triumph nor regret at their demise.” he says simply, and its the truth. ”I was just thinking about you. How you’d smile at me when I told you I’d been saving up, when _I_ brought you your wish. I imagined you so joyful at my success, thought you leap to me and embrace me and _adore_ me like I adore you. I love you. I love you so much and I wanted, _still_ want you to love me. I need you to be mine. So please say it back. I can’t tolerate it if you don’t.”

You take a step back, terrified at his not-so-subtle threat. The gentle tone he’s using isn’t fit for what he’s saying, the way he’s watching you is ravenous, insatiable yet guileless all the same. Like he doesn’t think its wrong to crave someone in this way. He’s tracking your every movement, expression hopeful and innocent and those are the worst kinds of monsters. You take a deep breath, glance at the exits as he follows your panicked motion, recognises the body language of cornered prey.

“(Name)?” he tries again, tone honeyed and sweet so you won’t be afraid, not of him, never of him.

“Saber...I can’t--”

There’s a sudden hollowness to his expectant expression before it collapses, and you run for the door instinctively before you have to face what follows. A million things flit through his mind as he stands there, processes the mere notion that you were walking away from him. Fleeing, like he were a villain, like he would _hurt_ you. It’s pain by another name entirely, this _betrayal_. For a second, he considers what it would be like to lose you. To wake cold and alone and _abandoned_. Such treachery... No, no he can’t be without you. _Why_ should he have to be without you? No one else could cherish you as much as he could, _no one_ else was deserving. 

It doesn’t take much effort to catch your shirt, toss you back onto the bed in one swift motion. He’s atop you before you’ve even registered his actions. Maybe...you don’t love him. That’s why you didn’t say it, and the idea tears him asunder inside. Its not so, of course that isn’t the case. He laughs, runs his fingers across your cheek even as he wants to scream. You’re hurting him, you’re ripping his heart into pieces--

No, you would never. You care about him, he’s sure. Didn’t you believe him, that his words were genuine? With a deep breath, he rationalises your behaviour. You’re feeling mischievous! That’s all, you want him to play with you before you say it! Yes, you can be rather cheeky at times, he shouldn’t have assumed you meant otherwise! There was no reason for you to ever let him down, so why would you start now? Or perhaps you’re shy or you didn’t fully comprehend him or you were distracted and didn’t hear the right thing or saw a giant flying cockroach and were startled. His mind concocts a thousand excuses for your rejection, none of which accept that his intensity and obsessive attention is scaring you, that his casual violence and prowess are alarming traits. He pushes his lips onto yours, keeps you pinned even when he feels your nails digging into his shoulders. It's fine, you love him.

“Darling! Don’t ever run from me again, okay? I despise it.” he lets you know mildly, because of course you hadn’t known beforehand or else you wouldn’t have done it. “It’s alright, did you doubt the sincerity of my confession? It’s okay, I understand. Here, let me _show_ you~”


	20. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tag Warnings:** Yandere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never proofread anything in this trashpile and its like 3000+ words a chapter xD Living on the edge haha xD Hope people like it! Finally scrubbed up that yandere au with Saber so here it is! Thanks for comments, always look forward to reading them esp. if they are long and about the chapter :') I made Saber halfway turning into his Alter mentality by now since there's too much dissonance for even his delusion to fully cover up :P

You don’t know how many days have passed, time seems a blur and getting reliable information out of Diarmuid is like trying to squeeze water from a rock. He’ll croon and simper over you in the morning, holding one-sided conversations all throughout breakfast as you staunchly give him the silent treatment before inevitably leaving to do whatever he does during the day. 

“...I have to go now, (Name). But I’ll be back by dusk, do you need anything?” he finally asks with a pout as you refuse to respond. “No? Okay…”

He gives you a quick peck, pausing expectantly for some well wishes from his mandatory house spouse. At least his absence will give you time to study the door and walls, because your former Servant has packed the boundaries and foundations of this house with runes for days. Honestly, you’d be impressed if you weren’t so exhausted by it all. But the nature of this land certainly must have assisted in any spellcraft endeavours, so perhaps you shouldn’t be too surprised. Still, today is a special day. You’d managed to wheedle a broom out of him after complaining that this place needed to be swept, and intend to finally navigate your way down this windswept hilltop with your makeshift cane. When he had left of course. Maybe at around midday...when he was far enough that he wouldn’t be able to see you ambling off on your slow escape.

This thought gives you enough strength to muster a grunt of acknowledgement to him, which seemed to make him happy. He leans in for another kiss, tilting your chin up, pretending that your hands aren’t braced against his chest, trying to push him away. Pretending you want him....just a fraction as much as he wants you.

“...Love you, darling.” he murmurs before finally heading out.

\--*--

“(Name)!”

You panic, wondering whether its too late to run. Probably. But you aren’t exactly going to give up your hard earned progress either, so you try it anyway. Predictably, you don’t get far, feeling a hand on your shoulder as you shove it off, shielding spell in place and broom raised like a weapon. The man laughs, and you realise its not at all the familiar cadence you’ve been stuck with for the last...who knows how long.

“Easy there, (Name)! Don’t be afraid, do you remember me? Fionn Mac Cumhaill?” he greets and your feel hope surge through your chest.

Yes, yes you do remember. While before you had viewed this man as an inconvenient thorn who contributed little more than veiled, petty insults to your conversations, right now you could kiss him. The fact of the matter was, that he was here. Somewhere in there, he cared enough about his old friend to have journeyed across the seas and mountains to find him again. For that, you were endlessly grateful.

\--*--

Diarmuid can’t describe how it feels, to see you embracing someone else. Not just any other man, but _Fionn_ of all the possible mortals or gods that walked this realm. It had been devastating enough to return to an empty house, find that you had wandered off to seek freedom alone, as if he were some kind of malicious captor but this...this was worse than even he could have anticipated through his clouded love. It’s as if the air has been crushed out of his chest for a moment before his denial and shock is replaced by a burning jealousy and bitterness that boils over from within. His precious darling, the love of his life...they couldn’t have you, not now, not _ever_. He’ll admit that he has been guilty of resenting his former liege, during dark days when the past threatened to bowl him over. But right now, it is hate by another name entirely. He wants nothing more than to obliterate this intruder, erase his existence here now and forevermore. There was no room for him in your happy fairytale, and if he should try to even touch what paradise he had managed to eek out for his dearest, well then he would learn that his wrath had not been tempered with time.

“Ah, there you are--!” Fionn’s relieved greeting dies in his throat because his friend’s gaze is steely, barely disguised venom leaking from the corners.

He lets you go, instinctively turns around to face him fully, as if he were a potential foe. No, he didn’t need clairvoyance to tell that there was something dangerous about this Saber, from the way his two blades were clenched in tightly balled fists to the heaviness of his breathing, forced calm. It was the depthlessness of his eyes that _truly_ made Fionn pause though, because despite their clarity, they were so very warped from the wildflower gold he remembered, as if ablaze from a firestorm. 

“*Its certainly a surprise to see _you_ here. You must be tired from the journey, please come rest at our home.*” Diarmuid finally invites him abruptly, choosing to speak in ancient Irish instead of a language you would understand.

He then promptly brushes past him to (Name). Upon reaching out though, his Master snatches their arm back.

“Fionn…?” you ask uncertainly, as your once loyal knight catches your elbow in a _sharp_ grip, almost as if a warning.

Just this simple name seems to infuriate Diarmuid and everyone senses it. For a second, Lancer sees the snarl that forms and it is livid, as if he intends to tear his throat out with his teeth. He warily shifts his spear, and even this slight movement has that icy glare focusing on him. He recognises this body language, your reluctant compliance. It’s too familiar, it’s how Grainne would nod but keep her gaze distant on their wedding night, her short, flat responses to his questions…

“What is going on here?”

“He kidnapped me to this place! There’s something terribly wrong with him.” you blurted out in a rush and you can actually hear his growl of annoyance at this ‘betrayal’. “Please don’t leave without me!”

“(Name), we’ve talked about this!” Diarmuid snaps irately, before sighing, swallowing his anger at hearing such sentiments from your lips. “*It is not as she says, sadly she is the one who is confused. It is rather a lengthy tale however, and I’d prefer to explain in private, if you will afford me that courtesy.*”

There’s a sarcastic edge to his tone towards the end, but Fionn can overlook it in light of the strangeness of these events. Yes, he suspects there will be quite a “tale”. With a shrug, he hums in agreement.

“Well, I’m glad you two are safe and well at the very least. It is a long way back, so we should rest up before we set out in any case.” he allows with a smile as his former knight gives a nod.

Diarmuid tries to pick you up but you struggle like a fish out of water, flapping your arms and crying out. Had you been strangers, Lancer would have intervened but he knew you both, knew how close you were. Heck, he had even made sure to use Diarmuid’s boundless loyalty and affection for you to rouse some agitation in days long gone, spurred by the petty bitterness that lingered in the back of his throat over his runaway bride. But seeing this, how you push your palm against his face, lean away with all your might...it is the furthest image that comes to his mind when thinking of the two of you. It’s perplexing, disturbing. While he’s knowledgeable enough to be _wary_ , it still isn’t enough in the end.

“ _(Name)_ , that’s enough. It’s a long way back. You will tire if you walk, it will be quicker if I carry you.” Diarmuid persuades, an edge still in his tone as you shake your head. “Don’t be unreasonable, we don’t want to be wandering after nightfall.”

“No! No, put me down! I don’t want to go back, I need to go home! Fionn, please!”

Again, another man’s name on your lips seems to incense him. He slings you up swiftly, then starts off with brisk, irritated steps.

“During our last Rayshift trip, (Name) was struck with a curse. It couldn’t be cured through any conventional methods, and it was suggested for me to seek a cure in the Otherworld. While I haven’t yet been able to find one, at least her condition is stable here and she’ll be able to be healthy until I can.” he explained as you bristled like an angry cat at his blatant deception. “Of course, I had to make...arrangements for her to be able to survive here at all--”

“That’s not true, he’s lying! He took me here because he wants us to live together forever, he’s deranged!” you protest immediately, glaring over your shoulder. “Don’t believe a word he says, he’s just making a cover story for his kidnapping!”

“Sadly, one of the side effects is that she doesn’t remember this. As you would recall if Da Vinci or Romani informed you, I left a transmission with Chaldea before I left. Time was of the essence so I didn’t want to risk waiting around for a response, I apologise in that regard.” he continued calmly, as if you hadn’t spoken. “I thought to reestablish connection once we had arrived but as you are undoubtedly aware by now, transmissions to the Otherworld are not possible.”

“Yes, they did show me you recording. (Name) was already unconscious at that point, I believe.” Fionn replied and you grit your teeth at the lengths he had gone to get away with his crime. “Even the magic of Aengus Óg yielded no results?”

“Fionn, he’s lying!” you plead, interrupting before you’re fully discredited as the crazy one when its much the opposite. “Please, I just want to go home! Can you not see that I am well? Diarmuid is the one who is ill!”

You thrash when Saber tightens his hold, his warmth around you a reminder of your chains. He smooths his fingers through your hair, coddling you and stroking you and it makes you sick how disgustingly sweet he is, how he acts like you have a memory loss condition and need his endless patience.

“He was the first one I went to. He helped me prepare to bring her here. We knew that even the worst ailments could find their antidotes in this land. On foot, the hike could span years and given my Master’s...state, I can’t leave her for such a long period of time.”

“I see. Yes...well we were all deeply worried when we received your message and you seemingly disappeared.”

“Fionn, please use your Clairvoyance ability to ascertain if he is lying! I know he’s lying!” you plead as he coughs awkwardly, unsettled by all this arguing.

“Am I so treacherous in your eyes? Do you consider my word so _unreliable_?” the acidity underneath his polite facade burned holes through his rhetorical questions.

There’s a shift happening here, you can tell. Something beyond his rage at seeing you with another, or indignance at your attempted escape. It’s deeper than surface anger...more tumultuous, chaotic and hateful. This resentment was the kind that changed character, the kind too impactful for him to simply dismiss. People never changed until something they couldn’t be without was affected. You know you’re seeing that now in real time, and the forboding grows in your heart. If you didn’t weasel away from him now you doubted you would be able to later.

The silence stretched on as Diarmuid finally gave a click of disgust. 

“Do as you wish, of course. I would never _presume_ to enforce my will over that of my once liege. Know that I have no pale gold basin nor chessboard for your divinations though.”

He doesn’t seem to be bothering to keep his snark in check now, stalking up to hold open the door to your home for Fionn before following and setting you down on the edge of the bed, still gently, even now. You stand up as you hear the two of them nearby at the kitchen table. Fionn studies the shelves, stalked with bottles of various preserved fruit or honey. It’s a small, tidy place with two of everything, suited for a couple. He wants to believe that Saber was not beguiled fool, that his intentions are only noble but hopeful delusions are dangerous assumptions to rely upon.

“It’s no issue, I can make do with any bowl and board you have.” he offers lightly as Diarmuid stiffens, but promptly places down a cutting board he was about to use for slicing bread in front of him without a word. “But first, tell me what adventures lead to (Name)’s grave injury? I thought your venture through the Rayshift was only recreational?”

“Yes, well misfortune has a way of following me unfortunately.” he deflects deftly, filling a clay bowl with water and handing it to him. “Go on then, before we chat any further I’d like my name cleared. This tension and suspicion will only breed animosity. Tell us what you find.”

You creep over, and for once, Diarmuid doesn’t bundle you up into his suffocating embrace. You too, want to hear the verdict of his sight. Would he see what enchantment he laboured under despite his Magic Resistance? He had spoken so confidently, was allowing his story to be verified. Was there perhaps a grain of truth somewhere in his version of events? It’s quiet now. Outside, you can hear the crickets begin to chirp as dusk descends, the wind as it rustles the long blades of grass. Next to you, the ripples and droplets almost ring loudly as you hold your breath, afraid that any distraction will break his concentration.

Then, there’s a terrible sound of metal piercing flesh as you freeze. You hear the clay bowl knocked to the ground, liquid spilling everywhere.

For a moment, you don’t understand what has happened. Tentatively, you reach out and brush your hand against the plate armour Fionn wears, touch coming away warm and wet. Instinctively, you try to close the wound but you should know, Beagalltach and Moralltach are cursed blades that will not allow their destruction to be healed. When Diarmuid speaks, it is a whisper. Not for you, and it is as if by the force of his will you are not present to witness this vicious spectacle.

“I wondered Fionn, for a long time, whether if you had caught me during my forced flight with Grainne, whether you would truly have had the gall to slay me for a crime I had no choice in committing. It used to trouble me, the ease at which you might throw away our years of friendship and companionship. For what? A girl you had scarcely known a week? I was a coward then, evaded you. Couldn’t bring myself to know the answer.”

He chuckled darkly, breathing strained.

“As I laid there dying among the reeds, watching rivulets stream from between your fingers, I had the arrogance to believe that you would still save me before I perished. That I meant more than an old grudge to you. What ignorance. Did it make you happy, to marry her afterwards? No? Regardless, you of all people should understand my choice now. At least I can claim that (Name) brings me joy and contentment, which is more than I can say for you and _her_. Return to the Throne, pursue me no longer.”

Beneath your fingers, you feel the Heroic Spirit dissolve into dust until nothing remains. He’s gone, murdered by the one knight you were sure would find the very notion inconceivable. You take small comfort in the fact that he had not incarnated yet, tried to hide behind the fact that summons were technically shadows of their true selves on the Throne. Had Diarmuid known that he was still a Servant? You turn to the door, scared at this new development. At the knowledge that his barriers were not what you thought, that he simply didn’t care. He was far more unhinged than you had feared, you had to run--

“(Name).” he says pleasantly, and there’s no quaver in his voice. “If you attempt to walk out that door right now or ever again without my company, you’re going to regret it.”

The threat is issued calmly, as if fresh blood doesn’t stain his hands. He is continuing on as if the other man was never here, that his radical demeanour change is natural. You shiver, folding in on yourself as if it would protect you if he decided to strike. You’re afraid. He’s close to snapping and you don’t want to be here when it happens, don’t want to see it, don’t want to cause it. Yet the line is always unseen. You wipe your eyes, 

“Diarm--”

“Quiet, I’m not done.” he interrupts abruptly, immediately. “This is what is going to happen (Name), you’re going to wash up and go to bed, and you’re going to kiss me back when I join you. You’re going to be a very good girl, and tell me how much you love me all night. You’re never going to go outside without me or leave again. And you’re _never_ going to entertain the attentions of anyone else. Do you understand?”

You want to say no, to scream that he’s just killed an innocent, his friend who had come all this way to rescue him, that he was crazy to trap you like this but you don’t. Not when you can feel the radiating fury of his from here, how he’s on the brink of madness. Either you bolt for it or obey, and both options seem equally unappealing. As if sensing your dilemma, he laughs, a pitched, hysterical sound that isn’t like the man you knew.

“(Name) my darling, do you doubt my sincerity? Why do you still face the door that way? Do you think you could flee from me? Am I so abhorrent? I could be. I could be, dearest. I’m sure you’d think so if you made me hurt you. I don’t want to...please don’t make me, my love… Yet, I can’t bear to have you leave me again...Maybe, I wonder…”

“I...you would do that? Hurt me?”

He pauses, watches the way your expression, already devastated and forlorn crumples. A part of him _dies_ to see such terror on your face directed at him, your protector and keeper and lover. Could he? He would hate to do it, but it would make you rely on him...mean that you physically couldn’t abandon him anymore. Just the thought of you needing him more has him thrilled. The image of you letting him care for you, snuggled against him thankfully-- Would you detest him though? If he brought a blade against your flesh? He can’t bear it, can’t bear it--!

_She already despises you, it is a small price to pay to ensure her safety. Make her stay, make her yours. She has the rest of eternity to change her mind anyway, and she will. If she escapes, you will never have her again_

_Don’t be ridiculous, she adores you! Violence would only be a betrayal of her trust. She’s just confused, give her time and she’ll be yours! How could you even consider hurting your sweetheart!? Poor, precious baby...she’s scared!_

_Don’t be deluded! Why do you think she left?! Wake up and face the reality before its too late, she doesn’t even like you anymore--!_

“...Do you love me?” he asks softly, and you hesitate, weighing your options. This close to the precipice, any false step might be catastrophic.

“...I-I of course I do, Diar. I love you so, so much.”


	21. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU Prequel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag Warnings: Yandere themes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean I’m terrible at naming my AU’s?? xD Idk what this is, somewhat a prequel to the Yandere AU maybe?? But Cu is around and I kicked him out of Yandere AU so who knows, I have no continuity xD The tone slides all over the place depending on my mood xD I might start in a light/humour angled intro then just shift randomly like a car on an icy road swerving left and right xD Sometimes I’ll watch clips of Fate Zero and be like...what have I done to our beautiful boi’s characterisation D: I made him yandere where there was none xD But at the same time, I’m like 90k words into throwing canon aways so who cares :’) I'm pretty meh about this chapter, but that's most of my writing, thought I'd post anyway since I haven't in a while though so enjoy or not :'( Hope you guys are doing well, not sure if people are still here xD
> 
> I wanted to do a Halloween thing but in the end I couldn't bang out 2k words for it. I was going to do that stereotypical "sexy costume" prompt but I would have to do NSFW then, which I have been considering. But NSFW feels like a dime a dozen for the characters I write for and it gets less reviews so maybe not. BUT give me your ideas guyssss and if it gives me inspiration you'll probs see something pop out. 
> 
> Thanks to that one review that came in today, gave me the encouragement to finally tidy up the scraps I had lying around to post! :>

“Here he lies, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne of the Radiant Face, son of Donn, demigod, fiercest of the Fianna, Handsomest Man by the Fenian Cycle magazine for more than a thousand years running, currently the saddest sea cucumber—”

“Go away Cu.” groaned Saber, holder of a great many titles. “Doesn’t Mario Mario have better things to be doing?”

He was currently sulking on his bed while Lancer scooted around on the wheely chair nearby, refusing to leave him in peace. Instead, his moping session was frequently interrupted by his roommate's various quips and noting of random facts or poking. Ah, such was the burden upon his shoulders that it weighed him to the mattress like boulders.

“Nope. Come’on tell me what’s wrong?” he whined again as Diarmuid finally relented, rolling over to face him, ignoring his quiet cheer.

“I…did something bad to (Name).” he finally whispered in a horrified, mortified tone. “I shouldn’t have but…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cu replied immediately, used to him overexaggerating the smallest of perceived “wrongs” when it came to his beloved Master. “What is it this time? Did you accidentally step on her toes?”

“No!” he grumbled with a heavy sigh. “I...I stole something that was supposed to be theirs.”

A long silence follows, as they stared at each other.

“So...just give it back.” he offers at last, but suspects that isn’t the end of this debacle.

Diarmuid wouldn’t do something like that without reason, had to fulfill his cinnamon roll quota around here of which theft severely damaged. Especially from you, usually he took so much as breathing around you as a privilege so this thing must have set him off somehow. He surreptitiously starts scanning the room for any objects that weren’t there yesterday but finds none.

“I can’t. It’s already...gone.” he tells him, sitting up miserably. “But even if I could, I wouldn’t _want_ to and is it wrong of me?”

“Depends, what was it?”

“...A bouquet. I don’t know who it was from but when I saw it at our front door I...I just felt compelled to get rid of it. At that moment, I didn’t want her to accept the affections of some unknown admirer...I was jealous.” he admitted guiltily, pacing from wall to wall. “I could replace it, confess but I have no desire to do so, I’m not sorry. I _don’t_ want to compete or share with some stranger...I just want her to myself!”

“Yeah, that sounds like something a guy with several hundred pictures of (Name) on the wall would say. You ever realise that this place looks like a scene out of a serial killer documentary?” 

Cu gestured at all the photos of you Diarmuid had plastered onto the walls of their shared bedroom. Ever the goodest boi, he had kept them to his half of the room though, the invisible line being where the pictures abruptly stopped. It was highly excessive, especially since he stored pics on his phone, kept some in his wallet, set them as his wallpaper etc. like a certified stalker. Anyone would be scared by such obsessive behaviour but luckily for him, you couldn’t see and he seemed to think it was normal so said nothing. For better or worse, he was actually a rather good photographer. At least it explained what he spent his money on because these weren’t just done on regular paper, but rather Canon’s Pro Platinum range for professional development. Here you two were at the beach, at the shops, on public transport, at work, in your backyard, on the couch, taking a nap....

“Well, from my understanding we’re both considered serial killers as we’ve both murdered two or more people in our past.” Saber replied matter-of-factly.

“Sure, but this is ridiculously creepy. You’re doing it in her own house too… _and_ we share a room.” Cu complained from his office chair throne.

“(Name) said I could keep as many pictures as would fit in my phone.” he countered quickly, flashing up his digital photo album as if that was the problem. “And this device has yet to run out of room.”

“Diarmuid, you don’t think you’re being…” he hesitated to find the right word. “--overly attached? It’s fine to love someone but you’re on another level here...if it isn’t meant to be, then it isn’t meant to be. Maybe its better to wait and see instead of trying so hard.”

Saber had turned away previously but there was an utter stillness in his body now, a tautness that made Cu narrow his eyes warily. Could he do that, bear to watch you slip from his grasp like water through cupped fingers? No, no he didn’t think he could. Absolutely not. Was it wrong to crave you this way? With a voraciousness closer to hunger than sweetness? He would never have anything like you again though...and hadn’t fate been cruel enough? Didn’t he deserve someone of his own volition? Someone soft and kind to him, someone he chose who could fill his heart with happiness— That must be why he removed those roses, right? Because he didn’t want you to make the mistake of accepting them and forgoing any chance of _true_ fulfillment with him? They probably didn’t cherish you as much as he did, and it was his duty to guard you against any harm that might come from their careless irreverence to the value of your endearment. Yes, that sounded right. Everything was fine, he wasn’t in the wrong. Their temporary favour would come and go like the wind, would be unable to stand the test of time, would leave you ultimately hurt and he couldn’t let such an awful fate befall you...his dearest darling.

There’s a long pause before he speaks without moving to look at him, tone calm and entirely different from the playful sulkiness of their previous banter.

“I’ll never stop loving them, and I never want to. It’s not a question of whether I would be able to let go, because I already know I won’t. It’s just whether they’re with me or not. Some days...she’s all I care about. Her and who I am at her side. I won’t get another chance like this, after this one life of hers is gone. I can’t afford to...squander eternity. Yes, it’s selfish but I never claimed I wasn’t.” 

“Well, love isn’t something you can force.” Cu hesitated for a long time, as if daring himself to continue.

Couldn’t he? His Love Spot begged to differ… But he didn’t want you that way. Didn’t want some fabricated fantasy if he could have your genuine adoration. He could almost taste it… Of course if the question was between having anything at all...then he couldn’t promise he were selfless enough to condemn himself dejected solitude for the rest of his days in this world and the Throne.

“...You would know better than me.” 

“Yes, though it seems some people have managed to get away with it in the past.” Diarmuid muttered bitterly.

Cu got up, stretching. He could see that words were doing little to dissuade his fellow Servant from his infatuated reverie. Best thing at this point was probably just to let you know so you two could talk it out. Clear communication was a key cornerstone of a good relationship after all…

“Did you at least keep the card on the flowers?” he asked lightly, holding a hand out to receive it.

A small blue tag is deposited there, graceful looping cursive spelling out a short message with no sender name but a couple of hearts. 

_To the most attractive person I have ever seen~ <3_

Lancer reread the sentence. Then coughed awkwardly.

“So...I know you think (Name) is the greatest and all that but uh...are you sure that this wasn’t meant for you?” he proposed slowly. “Not to say she isn’t attractive! But...y’know, she’s not cursed by the embodiment of youth to be a solid 11/10 to the point where is ruins their life-attractive.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s for (Name), I have E Rank Luck. This is the kind of gift that men like to send to ladies anyway.” he said dismissively, glaring daggers at the card as if it had personally offended his entire family. “Either way, I don’t want to see that thing ever again so give it here so I can burn it.”

Cu blinked. Welp, he had gone from guilty over ruining your “prospects” for a random date to positively justified in less than the span of their conversation. Sure, maybe back in their day it was okay to duel someone to death for a bride but somehow he didn’t think that would fly with you. If he were anyone on Diarmuid’s suspect list as the flower sender, he would be watching his back right now… He hoped Saber wouldn’t round on him for betrayal when he let you know...

\--*--

“Hey there, um...can we talk?”

Diarmuid face lights up like a bulb at the sight of you, always his favourite person. He quickly rushes over to greet you with an embrace, longs to feel your warmth nestled safely in his arms, a sign that you were his. Thus, you were promptly scooped up as he scuttled off to sit at the edge of your bed, lips pressed against your temple. It reminded you of a dog who might run to hide a treat of theirs out of sight.

“Of course, it’s always a pleasure to converse with you.” he tells you earnestly, and if you could see how his gaze drunk in the light off your skin, maybe you would have flinched at their desperate intensity.

“So…how’re you feeling?”

He blinks, then narrows his eyes suspiciously. The uncertain, worried lilt in your tone was more than enough to set him over the edge, his mind racing.

“Fine, thank you. What is the matter?”

“Nothing! Y’know, I was just checking in, wanted to make sure you—”

“There is no need for this charade, (Name). I can presume by this point that Cu told you something or you have an issue you wish to discuss. Please, speak your mind.” he interrupted abruptly, hold tightening around you, and he’s close enough you can count the gentle exhales from the rise and fall of his chest or from the way his breath tickles your face.

You sigh heavily, want some distance before you continue but he won’t let go, fingers digging in as if in warning when you try to slip away.

“I’m sorry...that it’s taken me so long to say this. I knew how you felt through our bond, but I didn’t want to presume...still don’t want to presume. I realise, we’re different in not insignificant ways. You’ll be young forever, and in the end you’ll go back to the Throne...perpetually part of the cycle. Effectively immortal, a demigod. And I’m only human. One day...I guess we’ll be walking different paths in life. You might be with Chaldea and I’ll be here, I mean it’s difficult enough for a young fit magus to keep up with Heroic Spirits on missions let alone when I’m old and you’re still eternally spritely.” you pause and the silence is deafening, through your link and in the room. “But, well I think that we should just be friends. It’ll make things easier, in the end. I don’t know how I feel about you, but I don’t want you to have to wait anymore...is that okay?”

You try to stand up but he’s frozen, grip still vicelike. Your connection flares, chaotic like a tempest, before it suddenly evens again to the mirror sheen on a waveless lake. Similarly, his thoughts are shrouded in the depths of the water. You don’t blame him...know that something inside him is breaking.

“Diarmuid…?”

He tilts his head mechanically, the hollow nothingness between you disturbing, utterly unfamiliar. But there is no anger, no resentment or sorrow. Only initial panic that is replaced by confusion which now is just as easily washed away by delusion. So you were worried about lifespans. Why...it was such an easy fix he wondered why you had scared him that badly with all your mentions of separation. He would have assured you right then that there was no need for any of that, but he knew that there were obstacles present. Factors that might stop him from bringing you to the Otherworld where you wouldn’t have to worry about this problem ever again. So instead, he merely asks a question.

“Would you travel with me to the Ireland I knew, one last time?”


	22. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag warnings: yandere themes, implied dubcon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diarmuid read the yandere’s guide on how to yeet unwanted competition from his darling’s life xD Tbh I don’t know if Diar could beat Cu in a fight, I think not if they were going all out tbh so I’m going to leave it ambiguous as to what happened. Because he definitely yeeted him somehow xD Yandere Diar feels like the “bad end” of trying to be on Cu’s route xD
> 
> Had to dig up my PDF of Diarmuid’s whole backstory...apparently the version I’m using it from 1909! Also I just pulled an all nighter for an assignment then banged this out after handing it in so hope the grammar works xD Think I made him too salty but whatever I retcon by the chapter xD

You’re grinning, and he knows your eyes are shining like slivers of sunlight as you paddle about amongst the waves, feet skimming the sand beneath.

He hates it. Wishes it would end there.

Detests this memory of yours with a loathing reserved for traitors or evil, even if you never showed it to him. Yet he’s watched it a thousand times though your bond, like a broken record stuck on repeat. Somehow, it had made the discovery worse when he had dredged it up from your mind, the shock of what he was seeing searing like fire didn’t. Of watching someone else have what he couldn’t all those years ago, _knowing_ it was nothing but a throwaway afternoon that should have been _his_. An egregious waste, water tossed onto desert sand, his nightmare in true form. That Servant didn’t love you, not like he did, with all the passion of a hurricane over open oceans. And like a tempest, this furious adoration would tear you both apart.

He wants to turn away when it surfaces, but he can’t. Drowns again instead.

Cu carefully guided you through the water, careful to ensure you aren’t toppled by the tide. It was supposed to be him, he was going to take you swimming had your fates only been free from that wretched war--! He burns when you’re playfully splashed, startled by the sudden attack and Lancer’s laugh rings mocking in his ears. It’s a movie, the past, as unchangeable as time itself or the turn of the seasons. Still, he reaches out as if he might pull you to him, have you soothe his agony and drive away this interloper but he’s just air in this place, a silent observer. 

He wants to scream when you two finally come ashore again, as this horrid spectacle reaches its cursed conclusion. He knows why you came here, to his homeland. It’s been years, after all. Dusk falls and only a pair of presences are illuminated on the shoreline through your magic. Your fingers trace the curves of a worn piece of sea glass, rolling it over and over.

“...That’s a catalyst now.” Cu says finally, the unspoken question evident.

“I know.”

You hesitate, draw in a deep breath. 

“Back then, I was afraid I would forget him... I’m glad I haven’t. I thought maybe I had finally accepted that our paths were in different orbits but then...you appeared. I’ve been thinking a lot about summoning him again but…”

You pause, you wouldn’t know what he would want. Didn’t even know if he would remember you, whether that version that loved you had indeed perished that night. You used to replay out a fantasy where you were reunited, in those dark days after the Grail war, almost akin to denial. But you don’t do that so much anymore. On those lilac evenings, you’ve realised in a moment of quiet that...he’s gone. That you didn’t think about him that day at all. So maybe its selfish of you to decide on this simplicity, to let go but you’re older now, can see the seams in that picturesque future you used to imagine. It was easy to love from afar, when they’re just an ideal. Daydreams didn’t paint compromise or complications or the differences. And they were there, even, you had known that much through the chaos.

You shut your eyes, but the tears don’t come anymore like they used to. You’ll always treasure what you had, and sincerely hope he’s happy now. Demigod, myth, tragedy. It’s time to move on, for both of you. The mana that flows through your circuits flares, and at once the piece of the past in your palm disintegrates back into grains from which it was made.

“Goodbye, Diarmuid.”

\--*--

You slink around the room anxiously. He’s tormenting himself again, you can sense it from here. The rising swell of his hysterical anguish cacophonous even through the white noise of the Otherworld. He always gets like this when he thinks about that trip you took to Ireland with Lancer before he showed up. You wished he would just forget it, hadn’t gone rifling through your brain to create his own personal plague. For better or for worse, if you escaped being in his actual clutches before the episode, he was generally too preoccupied during the bout to hassle you for anything. Of course this momentary freedom didn’t last, and the aftermath of this little walk down memory lane seemed to get worse each time.

You knew it would be better if you were there to comfort him, best yet before he even got started but even being around him these days is an exercise of willpower. Since Fionn’s fateful “visit”, you hadn’t dared leave the house. _He wouldn’t hurt you_ , a part of you reassures whenever you get particularly scared but its riddled with doubt. You half heartedly pluck at the Celtic harp he had acquired for your amusement, remembering long drawn out lessons spent cosseted in his lap as he taught you songs note by note. You ought to go distract him now, before you repeated those unforgivable words to him again. Then maybe it would be easier tonight to endure his suffocating caress.

But no, you perk up upon hearing the frantic sound your name, yelled desperately more than a call for your attention.

Instinctively, you dive into the closet. You’ve been eyeing this hiding spot for a while, know you should save it for when you have a better plan than “avoid the Diarmuid” but its hard to think through your stress. You dart into the laundry basket, covering yourself with the clothes and pulling the lid over snugly just as the door bursts open.

“(Name)!” he freezes, stunned for a second because you’re _not here_.

This is where he left you, and he didn’t see you leave so WHY WEREN’T YOU HERE?! He wheels around, panicked and terrified that some intruder had stolen his beloved darling right before him but the runes at the entrance flicker back with the same calm glow as before. No, no one had left of come in apparently. Unless they had reset his sigils--!

He steadied his rapid breathing, needed to clear his head.

He had heard a few melodic notes just moments before. You were nearby, he was sure. He waited until the pounding of his heart didn’t echo through his ears. 

“...(Name), please come out now.” he requested quietly, tone deceptively placid. “I won’t be mad, you know I’d never hurt you, sweetheart.”

You’re shaking in your fleeting haven, but don’t move. You want to just get this over with but there’s another illogical half of you that won’t obey. Just wait, just wait until he goes away then you can be free! It’s a primal urge not to give in, if only to save what precious few seconds of tainted liberty remain in this wicker prison of yours.

The silence stretches on.

“ _(Name)_.”

You can hear the cracking of wood, like the back of the chair he’s gripping is splintering under the force of his needy impatience. The low growl in his tone is _sharp_ , a warning. His footsteps are unbearably loud as they approach, as you hold your breath and will your heart not to leap from your chest. He waits, just waits. Long enough that you are forced to exhale.

When he speaks, it is a whisper. Deafening.

“I can hear you, (Name). Why won’t you come out? Don’t you trust me?” he asks softly, and you continue to pretend you’re anywhere but there. “ _Don’t you love me?_ ”

No. Not anymore. How could you ever again after all this? Did you still care for him? Maybe. The thought of him injured made your heart twist uncomfortably. He’d cared for you after all in this realm, diligently, obsessively…

“Are you afraid?”

Yes. But you know better than to reply with that. He continues on regardless of the affirmative silence.

“There’s no need for that, don’t you believe my promise only to act in your best interests?” he insists, agitation clear in his voice at your lack of faith.

You did believe him, knew that his deluded mind had probably convinced him that cutting your tendons was for your happiness if you ever tried to run again. Yet perhaps this delusion was not the worst part of him. There was something dark brewing in his heart after all, twisted infatuation that was far more willing to hurt you to get what he wanted in the end. It was better than the insufferable alternative of simply not being with the one person in the world he had chosen.

“...Did you love him?”

Ah, back to Cu and his misguided paranoia of your lingering feelings. This tended to happen after that particular flashback. He would get worked up over the idea that Lancer had stolen you affection, as if love could be taken that way. He acted as if cuckolded and you were sure he felt that way, despite your lack of marriage. Though he never portioned the blame onto you, it was always the conniving or careless ways of others or the cruelty of fate that lead to whatever momentary lapse he concocted in his self-inflicted mental ordeals.

Apparently he had gotten tired of talking to the laundry basket you realise as you feel rustling above your huddled form. Then, you’re promptly lifted out of your sanctuary into familiar arms. His embrace is exactly as stifling as the countless times prior, tight and desperate so that your head is tucked against his neck. You remember to respond when his fingers start to dig in reflexively, a small action for the amount of emotion that is spilling over within.

“No.” you tell him simply, knowing it won’t be enough. It never is. “I don’t even know what happened to him.”

Or more accurately, what Diarmuid did to him but you keep the accusation out of your sentences. Much like the topic of Grainne and Fionn, Cu quickly joined the list of cursed names to be avoided lest he grow irritated, insecure and impossibly clingier. Still, he squeezes you at the unsatisfactory response and you think anything less than proclamation of your undying loyalty and devotion would be seen as insult.

“...He didn’t love you. Not as much as I do.”

“I know. No one loves me like you do, ~~with this delirious desire~~.” you agree, the slight shift in his words slanting the meaning but his delusion allows this reply to mollify the edges of his anger.

You sigh, knowing he would demand apology for your absence frightening him shortly.

“Aren’t you exhausted, Diarmuid?” you question tiredly, and he stiffens in contrast to how you flop there lifelessly in his hold. “We’re making each other miserable. Isn’t this worse than the happiness we used to have? You’d rather have an eternity of grief than one lifetime of joy?”

“Stop it.” he interrupted abruptly, and there’s a drop of coldness that you haven’t heard before. “I could make you happy, I could give you everything if you would just _let_ me. Instead you insist on this childish game, just _give in_.”

He pushes his lips onto yours, hungrily, desperately. As if the marks on your neck could claim you, make you more his. Your back hits the sheets, his weight settling above you, smothering and immovable as he nips and fondles anywhere he can reach. You can hear the low groans from the back of his throat, the trailing of his fingers across your body, the unbearable heat of him--

“Let me make love to you…” he implores, almost begging like he wasn’t pinning you down.

Still, he asks and you know he’d let you go if you told him to.

But you don’t.

\--*--

You snapped awake, would have vaulted upright if not for his heaviness draped over you restrictively. You were sore between your legs, knew you would be for days but it didn't matter this time, wasn't a reminder of your entrapment. You had seen it, a fragment from his youth, his past spent in a faraway realm, the land beneath the sea. Avalon. _Here_. He had shown you, unwittingly...salvation. He murmurs in his sleep, easing you once more back against his chest, so that you fit snugly, comfortably against him, cuddling you close for good measure. His perfect bride, sequestered away from the rest of the awful world that would only eat you alive. You brush your fingers against his waist. He’s soft in these moments, content in his slumber where he pretends you’re his loving spouse, where his fantasy is reality and you’re but waiting for the day to have your wedding and family-- You shut your eyes.

The answer had been there all along.

She was as beautiful as the dawn, as a myriad of stars reflected against the darkness of a midnight ocean. Truly, not in the way he would praise you back home when you stumped out of your bedroom on a Monday morning. No, her gaze shone like pearls with a brilliant iridescence, held pools of moonlight. You wonder whether the gold of Diarmuid’s eyes have changed their lustre here, if he is even more inhumanly handsome. The kind of beauty in legends that made the gods jealous, the kind wasted on you. 

_”Oh Diarmuid.” she lamented, and despite her years of sickness, nothing so ordinary as disease could dull her visage. “Your love is gone from me.”_

_”...It is gone indeed.” he said, turning away from her._


	23. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag Warnings: Yandere themes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everytime I try to write for another character, it ends up being Saber Diarmuid again :’( This whole chunk of chapters is just yandere Diar xD Also, y’all ever just remember that Servants canonically would just straight up kill a thousand+ people and the legend would just move on like it was nothing? Like they were bloodthirsty xD Also, I make Diarmuid such a dumbass in my fics but he’s also apparently great at chess and very smart xD He’s going more Alter now though so that’ll probably come out more.
> 
> Inspired by this piece of fanart of Saber Diar from Pixiv by 空木! (R-18 on their stuff, so I didn’t link)  
> 

“What are you thinking about, my dearest honey lamb?”

He croons in your ear sweetly, in a good mood since you’ve been being nice and compliant for him. Been quieter, readily accepting his gifts and help. What indeed. You shut your eyes, nestled against him, kept warm from his body heat and the thick cloak he’s wrapped you up in. His fingers were threaded through your hair as you thought through your plan. It would make you a little sad if Diarmuid lost all his adoration for you, but at the same time you were sure he had enough honour to take you home at least. Besides, you couldn’t stay here forever. That was if you could even recreate the scene from his legends at all of course.

“I’m thinking about you, your past.”

He tensed immediately from your honest answer, bundling you closer as if it might protect you from being stolen away.

“...Forget about such things, darling. My previous life is of no consequence, you’re the only one who has ever brought me unconditional joy and light.” he tells you instantly, stroking you several times anxiously.

“Well, the only way I can tell what this land looks like is through your memories.” you explain softly, glancing to the side. “There’s so much noise here in the Otherworld, I can barely use my magecraft to navigate.”

He hums sympathetically, as you wait. Typically, he’d jump at any mere implication that you needed anything, so you’re disheartened when he doesn’t offer to return your sight. You’re sure it can be done, Avalon is renowned for its healing springs and gardens. This step is something you’ve been considering for a while now. Back in Fuyuki, you would say that blindness was a part of your identity and that you didn’t really need it back but here, you didn’t have a trustworthy support system. You were aware it made you far more susceptible to his Love Spot but with the way his power was amplified in this realm, you were sure he could make you infatuated even without line of sight. It was merely his choice not to. Irisveil had once mentioned that it was beyond just his appearance, it was his countenance, mannerisms, and even scent. And that was when he had been summoned as a Lancer, trying to reign it in. You imagined it would only be all the more devastating if he actually weaponised it.

“Let me describe to you our surroundings--”

“No, there’s no need.” you interrupt hastily, sinking against him tiredly. “I just...well, it’s nothing.”

You know you’re being manipulative with this tactic, but what choice do you have? Predictably, he gets nervous at your cryptic remark, propping you up and cupping your face gently. 

“What is it, my love? Please tell me what ails you…” he asks concernedly, lathering you with more affection. 

“...I’ve been feeling unwell lately, that’s all. Even with my healing magecraft. I wanted to see the world outside before…” you pause, sighing for dramatic effect. “If I’m honest Diarmuid, these days I have barely the strength to even walk about the house. The Reverse Side of the World isn’t for mortals after all...I don’t know if I even have that much longer…”

He’s squeezing you so tightly you can barely exhale again, his fear is palpable through the silence and it almost makes you feel a touch of regret for this trickery. Almost. Here he thought your recent pliability had been the start of your surrender to his devotion and your subsequent picturesque future together. But no, of course it wasn’t, when had luck ever been on his side?

“That can’t be...I-I made sure you would be able to exist here. I used the Grails and the magic of Aenghus Óg to bring you here safely, they said it wouldn’t wear off.” he sounds horrified, before abruptly you can feel him checking your vitals from the energy that courses through your veins. “You seem fine, (Name) don’t play with my heart, are you truly unwell?”

You hesitate.

“I...I’m fine now. I’m just worried it’ll get worse, didn’t want you to wake up shocked one day if I’m lethargic or unresponsive.”

“Oh (Name)...”

He presses his lips against yours, desperate for comfort and intimacy. Some reassurance that his paradise was not yet fading, so soon after it had begun. Carrying you to the bed, he tucked you under the covers, intertwined your fingers with his.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be alright.” he murmured quietly, distractedly. 

“Would you take me to a doctor please?” you begged and you could feel him slumping against you. “Or to the Garden of Avalon?”

“Shh, I can’t trust anyone to see you, dearest. I’ll take care of you, everything will be fine…”

“No? I want to travel while I still have the strength...Diarmuid, the thought of you being left alone here makes me sad. I know how it feels.” you mumble out distantly, starting to angle towards your goal. “Didn’t you once cure your lover, the princess of a great sickness?”

“Hush now, nothing is going to happen to you, (Name). Your health is fine, I’m looking at the runes as we speak.” he promises you, although he’s uneasy, checking and rechecking. 

It’s clear that such a topic agitates him, so you resolve instead to just act out your slow dying rather than drop anymore hints. Seeing your eyes shut, he kisses your cheeks tenderly.

“Sleep now, my beloved.”

\--*--

The ground is pure scarlet, as far as his eye can see. It stains the grass so that they are crimson blades, runs into the nearby river where it dissipates into inky coils. Colours the water red. His blade and lance do not shine with their golden lustre, his eyes are barely a different shade. Painted in the blood of his opponents, he is but a shadow amongst this carnage. The corpses around him are piled in gruesome stacks, chests ruptured or heads severed. He thinks nothing of them. Nothing of the more than 3,000 men he has killed in search of a single item.

The cup of healing for the ‘loathly lady’.

When he turns to the King of the Plain of Wonder, his gaze is steady, sharp despite the seven hours of combat he has just endured. Perhaps if he had time to reflect on his youth, he might have said such violence was not needed. But his heart burned to save her, a lady he had not known longer than a week.

His love had always been an inferno after all.

\--*--

You wake to his singing, a beautiful melody in a language you can’t understand. It’s peaceful, as if to lull you into forgetting where you are. He’s running his hands all over your skin. Hands drenched in blood, you are quick to remind yourself. Saber hasn’t slept, it seemed. Instead just watched over you, obsessively making sure that your breathing was even, your temperature was normal and skin not discoloured. What wasted devotion. Thrice would his loyalty and faithfulness to his partner be nothing more than ashes in the end.

Where was the cup now? You wonder whether he would have to slay another kingdom of fighting men for it, hoped that would not be so. Surely it would be with the King Under the Waves? He could just journey there. With luck, he’d become enamoured again with the king’s daughter and you could be free. At least it would be requited then. Truly, he would be happier in such a situation then here with you, trapped and isolated by his own paranoia of your departure from him.

It had only taken him 3 days alone with the princess before he had become restless, returned to the Fianna. And that was with the company of his greyhound. Surely he couldn’t last that much longer here with you...it had already been what felt like months or perhaps years. Yet this was back when Fionn had been his great liege. Perhaps the novelty had worn off, or his eroded trust left no room for anyone but his captee.

You gripped his hand, as he leaned instinctively closer to hear your muted words.

“Diarmuid, I feel weak...won’t you let me take a sip from the cup of healing?”

Silence.

“Don’t you know the cost?” he asks simply, wincing.

You cough. Times like this, you don’t have to pretend to be perishing. Not when you’re already wilting inside from the loneliness and death of your friend, who has become this stranger intent on coddling you. The knowledge that even if you do return, it may not be to your own era. Your body may already have decayed, who knows how long is has been in your world. It shatters you, this uncertainty. The memory of your lost horizon, what you could have had. So maybe there’s no point in trying to leave at all, if you’d be just a spirit, wandering the plains. No, that was what he wanted. And you...still held the value of a natural life and death sacred. It was one thing if this prison was temporary, but it wasn’t. This would be eternity if you did nothing and it’s a small consolation that this means an infinite number of attempts. 

With each misstep though, you think you lose another shard of your Diarmuid you didn’t even realise was still there. Acknowledging that...maybe scares you more than the thought of immediate death should you be able to return. Like Chaldea’s former director, just a fleeting effigy, only present in a dream.

You turn away.

“...Is there a choice? The alternative is endless days spent succumbing to disease.”

“There’s always a choice. I won’t love you anymore.” his voice carries a rare touch of forcefulness that makes you flinch. “Is that what you want?”

Would he actually go fetch it? You remember all those afternoons spent together back home, his laughter in your ear or how touched you’d be that he’d remember even the smallest details about you. When he’d take you to the seaside, the tide lapping at your feet as he made sure you were warm and comfortable. Any anniversary from your first meeting to your more recent reunion never went uncelebrated, and it was a miracle he could keep track of all those dates given his atrocious math skills. Still...you had always appreciated how much effort he put into you, were flattered by his attention even if you couldn’t return it the way he wanted. Would all of it be lost?

_You will think no more of her than of any other woman._

Nonetheless, you can’t hold onto the past. These memories...they weren’t now. You wipe your eyes, because saying goodbye once again, for the third time isn’t easy. You hope it’s the last. Most likely will be if your mortal lifespan catches up with you upon leaving this place.

“...Yes, please let me take a drink.”

You’re startled when a chalice is promptly pushed into your grasp. He’s had it all this time? Reading your surprised expression, he explains.

“I retrieved this from the King when I first arrived, along with a number of other items needed to establish our home.” there’s a long pause as you dip your finger over the edge, the tip touching liquid. “Go on, if this is what you desire.”

You can’t risk saying it aloud, so you merely think it as you prick your finger, let a drop fall in.

_Goodbye._

The pounding your heart echos loudly in your ears as you take those three sips. When you draw the edge away for the final and third time, you turn to him. Waiting, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Diarmuid, is your love for me gone?”

“It is.”

You smiled, wanly at first but then genuinely, opening your arms. You threw off the covers. Even if he cared nothing for you now, he seemed like the kind to indulge a lady in her last whims. His warmth against your body is familiar, and you let yourself relax into it for the first time in a long while.

“I’m glad...are you going now? If I can ask you a favour, will you please take me back to Chaldea?”

He’s quiet, his responses so short and flat that you wonder if you were wrong to presume he would hold enough remaining charity for you to chaperone you this last time.

“No.”

“...Oh, why?”

He folds you back onto the bed gently, whispers close enough that his breath fans your face with each syllable.

“Because you lied to me, darling.” he tells you calmly. “Told me you were terminally ill in an attempt to trick me. Even with my readings saying otherwise, I believed you. Didn’t want to doubt your pain.”

“Diarmuid--”

“Hush. Did you think you could make me fall out of love with you?” he simpered, and you couldn’t tell whether he was furious or not through this iciness. “How foolish. You only lessen your credibility with these displays of perfidy. I warn you again (Name), do not try my patience.”

You bite your lip, feeling tears welling up in your eyes before your outburst.

“It’s true, I wanted to make you stop loving me!” you admit, sitting up only to be held down again. “But can’t you see that we’re miserable, suffocating? If not you, then at least I am! Maybe it’s not a physical affliction but sometimes those aren’t the only things that kill. Please! Can’t you see how sincerely I want to go? I miss the friend I had, not this mockery of them before me! You’ve become that which you detested in your life, worse than Grainne, for I have no Love Spot for you to blame!”

He laughs, the last thing you expect. But he does that you’ve noticed when you think back on it, lets out this bitter, choked sound whenever you push him too far. When he’s seething.

“Is that what you think, dear? You mustn’t have known me that well if you think I ever lacked this appetite for you.” he sighed, no mirth in his tone. “The difference was that before I had managed to delude myself into thinking you would stay willingly.”

He hummed, kissed you angrily, biting hard enough to draw blood and bruise your lips. You can’t pull away for air, and you know his grip on you will leave marks, is already making you sore. When he finally let’s you scrabble free, you’re left gasping.

“I see that it is a mistake to let you lead me around. You’d think I would have learned that after my last ‘relationship’. I thought you’d be...different.” he carries an almost impassive air, not disappointed or hurt or upset...it’s unnerving this cold clarity he possesses. “No matter, I can play these games if you wish.” 

He strokes your cheeks with his thumb dotingly. Despite the lack of pressure, the intensity of his gaze digs into you like hot knives.

“I only wonder whether you’ll have the stamina to keep up.” he muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, he didn’t give her the real cup. It was just a normal cup to see if she’d really do it to him xD He's going quite Alter now :> Thanks for comments in previous chapters! Always appreciate and am thankful to read reviews on my new chapters :D


	24. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag Warnings: yandere themes, implied NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIGHTNING UPDATES, so no proofreading xD This memory fragment business is much better than actually having to plan out a story sequentially xD That Babylonia anime is great though amirite?? Ushi :’( Also how many escape plans does Reader have? As many as I can come up with xD Tbh I finished reading his legends too, and I know it is a product of its time, but I’m like wow this guy was a psycho xD Like everyone in the myths is constantly running around at 0 to 100 xD but still, after reading the version I did I’m surprised he didn’t shank Fionn the moment he got back xD This was the filler episode of the anime before I can come up with new ideas :<

Searing violet light pours forth from the depths of the serpents many maws, obliterating the stone walls and gouging deep grooves into the hard-packed earth. Mash steps forward, shielding Gudao, refracting the beams of energy in blinding arcs. But he’s not focused on them, keeps sprinting to reach you even as he knows he won’t make it in time. He shouldn’t have split from you for any reason, should have stayed by your side--!

The blazing ray descends on where you stand, and he cries out, as if it were himself that were being burned. When it lifts though, you’re not there but safely behind Shielder. Just a flurry of pink petals...illusions? He lands heavily behind you and Merlin, kicking up dust from his skyfall. He thinks his chest will burst from the terror of losing you.

“(Name)!”

You jerk around, startled. 

“Diarmuid, we have to protect Caster!”

No, they weren’t his priority anymore. Couldn’t you see that you were in danger? He wishes you had never come here, that he had taken you away long before these accursed singularities had yawned open and you had decided that your life was a small price to pay for salvation. That Gudao and Mash were the ones who needed to get through this, were more important in the overall scheme of things. His poor heart can’t take this anymore, the agonising nightmares of seeing you spilling red from your lips, limbs crumpled like the broken wings of an insect. Worse still, that you might be dragged alive to be tormented in the lair of the beast, transformed into some monstrous mockery of life.

Ahead, Ushiwakamaru slowly rises, her blade ablaze with gold, cracking the layer of stone covering the sand before she’s running, her figure darting between the roaring jaws of the gorgon, splaying black blood in high arcs with each leap. She can’t win, not against a creature like that. He can recognise a last stand when he sees one. A part of him analyses the value of a combined assault, to tear through as much of the goddess as Móralltach can reach.

But he doesn’t. Because there’s a much stronger impulse to stay close to you, make sure you’re safe if Tiamat decides to lay waste to Mesopotamia. He’s scared. Not for himself, what was he but a fragment of the Fenian Cycle incarnate. A fleeting memory. No, for you. For what he might lose after only just finding happiness again.

He summons his crimson spear, boots digging into the stone at his feet as he aims for the heart of the gorgon. Let’s Gáe Dearg seek it’s mark.

He remembers what you looked like, with your side singed open. The sheer terror in his chest of having you there with him as he faced down a gorgon. He thought you might die in that singularity, perish amongst the black ichor that flooded the hard packed plains, the sands. No, no. Never again. Some nights he still sees your lifeless corpse, ripped asunder or worse still, rising up as a demonic beast. He doesn’t know what he would have done.

He wakes then, clutching you in a deathgrip, breathing quick and shallow as you squirm.

“Too tight.” you complain with a whine, trying to wriggle free.

He doesn’t reply, still shaking as you stir enough to feel his tremours. He sits up, puts his head in his hands as you roll over to face him. Hesitating, you reach out, rub circles on his back, use your magecraft to soothe his panic. It’s instinctive, this attempt to bring him peace. And in the half light of dawn, perhaps not so condemnable to have sympathy for your captor. 

“(Name)...” he utters, sounding...defeated, weak. 

He collapses back onto you, lets him sink into your embrace, the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair. It’s like you love him. Even if its only for a little while. He revels in your warmth underneath him, your quiet support and affection. He doesn’t fall back to sleep, rather tries to memorise how secure he feels in your arms, even when your eyes shut and your hand becomes still on his back.

\--*--

You’re prone to crying these days, he notices. Even as he holds you in his lap, wiping away your tears with a napkin, humming softly to comfort you. Sometimes, if it’s at night he’ll sing soft lullabies to calm you again, as Grainne did for him a lifetime ago. He doesn’t speak much during these episodes, not in your language at least. Rather he merely murmurs how everything is alright, how you’re safe and protected now in ancient Irish. How much he adores you, and that you have his undying loyalty and devotion until heaven’s clock itself ceases to turn. That if he would think nothing of slaying hundreds for a bride he did not want to follow, how much more might he be willing to do for you? His darling kitten…the thought of anyone appearing to intrude upon this joy he had carved out for you both makes him seethe. 

You blink the wetness from your lids. He’s sickeningly sweet, attentive and charming. It makes it easy not to detest him, as much as you wish to return to the mortal realm. It is more of a hollow sadness you feel at what he has become. All that honour and pride funneled into one person he happened to meet at the end of the world. Such a waste. You never wanted to live forever. 

_”I will never carry yourself or any other woman to the end of life and time.”_

Liar. Why hadn’t he kept his word? You were sure he’d carried you half way across Ireland and the Otherworld by now since you sure didn’t walk the distance. True, that promise had been made to Grainne in the midst of his initial, grudging flight but he had said them nonetheless.

You briefly consider whether you could stick a geas on him, but doubt that would work out. If it was one that did not require his consent, his Magic Resistance would likely nullify the majority of it if you could even manage the magecraft. Here of all places, your magic feels like paltry party tricks. And there was little chance you might manage to trick him into a self-geas scroll if you managed to make one, no matter how drunk he was. This wasn’t even touching on the fact that this out of all your schemes, was the one that would probably make him go the most feral if he even suspected what you were trying to do. Ah, escaping the Hawk of Ess Ruadh as he was once known appeared to be no easy task...

Your thoughts are interrupted by his lips against yours, gentle now that you’d been once again being ‘good’. This time, he hasn’t mistaken your compliance for loyalty though. He guides your hands over smooth fabric.

“I brought a gift for you.” he tells you quietly, still kissing your cheeks and corners of your mouth. “Do you like it?”

Was it a blanket? You reluctantly run your hands over the thing again and again until you realise that it is a dress. The cut is layered, and cloth textured and embroidered in what you know are attempts for you to connect with it more. When he slides a ring over your finger, your fears are confirmed. Still, you swallow your panic. Think, think. This was an opportunity, if your acting skills were up to it. You resist the urge to fold up the awful gown and dump it back at him. 

“I...you want to get married? I suppose it won’t change much, we’re already living together ~~and more~~.” you glance to the side, steeling yourself. “The thing is…I’ve always had a perfect dream wedding in mind and we don’t even have a priest.”

“We won’t need one, rest assured, my love.” he seems surprised but pleased at your non-enthusiastic acquiescence. Acceptance was acceptance after all. “I have the vows here. I will read them aloud and we can agree to them.”

Wait, you tried to keep the suspicion out of your gaze. That sounded like a trap if you ever saw one. Kind of like what you were trying to rope him into. But you knew playing along would get you farther than calling him out on it. You wondered why you bothered honestly, because if he were tired enough it was well within his power to just activate his Love Spot like Mystic Eyes and be done with it. Well, as long as you managed to make him contract to your wishes before you got to the altar (if you guys would even be having one), it would be fine.

“Oh, I meant having specific items and ceremonies at the event. Would you...be willing to do some things for me to make it special?”

“Hm, depends. What would you like?”

A restraining order, or the closest enchantment equivalent. Or for him to just take you home.

“Well, I want my friends and family--”

“There won’t be anyone in attendance, dear. It will be a quiet affair.” he interrupted immediately, bouncing you a little in his grasp.

“Oh.”

“Hush, it is not so bad. Isn’t our love enough?” he purred and really, it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. “I will bring you honeyed mead and wildflowers on the day, and we’ll have salmon and deer and boar or any other dish you desire.”

“Really? What about sushi or spicy noodles or chocolate?”

“Easily, so it’s a deal then?”

You blinked, narrowed your eyes. There was little chance he had access to such foods or knew how to make them at all, if he was the chef at any event let alone your own wedding you would offer to swap immediately. You had the awful sensation that he was just toying with you, not in a mocking, taunting way but with a touch of insincerity nonetheless. Like he was simply indulging your frivolous whims, entertaining you demands as a means to an end. It made you feel cornered.

“I wasn’t aware we were negotiating…”

“Of course we are, relationships are about compromises out of love as much as anything else.” he replied pleasantly. “Isn’t that what you’re aiming for? Trying to get something out of me for the marriage? Hoping to leverage a means to flee from your deranged Servant? I thought I’d cut to the chase.”

You slumped, tried to shoo him away (with little success).

“Mhm, you don’t deny it. Good, I loathe it when you lie to me.” he continued mildly, cuddling you fondly. “Here, I will give you some information as a reward. There is nothing left for you across the sea. It has been too long. Already you have faded from memory, from history. But here, you are cherished and treasured, not just a forgotten name--”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to manipulate me.” you told him sourly, glaring. “I’m well aware of what you’ve taken.”

“...I’ve been good to you, (Name). I’ve cared for you, loved you and brought you gifts and favours aplenty. Am I so insufferable? Will you not even attempt to reciprocate a modicum of my generosity?”

“Have _I_ not been cooperative? I’ve tried to...make you lucid. Do you think this kidnapping is love? You should know of all people that forcing someone only festers resentment. I remember your legends, the viciousness of your bloody triumphs, how your hatred tore through those unfortunate enough to be sent after you by Fionn. Are you not afraid your little pet will lose it one day too?” you question abruptly, trying to read his tone as best you can.

It is inscrutable. 

“Will she? Do you long to hurt me?” he asks lightly, and you feel the handle of a knife pressed into your hand.

No, you abhor the thought despite it all. You just want things to go back to the way they were before. It wasn’t in your nature but more than that, a part of you still cared about Saber. The one that fought for you through the darkest of the night, remained steadfast through all the tribulations of your first Grail War and the Grand Order that followed. Your love was not gone from that version of him, even if that Heroic Spirit of yours was.

All the same, your words were bitter. You felt annoyed that he kept giving you these ‘choices’ that were nothing seemingly only for his amusement. That you were utterly under his control, without autonomy of freedom to roam. Shanking him was a pointless endeavour anyhow, he’d just heal even if you could hit the right spot. You’d have better luck cutting yourself and hoping you died from tetanus. 

“What’s this for?” you snap sarcastically. “Want me to stab you in the thigh to emulate your former wife?”

He bristled, and you think you’ve finally gotten under his skin. Ah yes, taboo topic number 1. The lady with a heart as wild and free as the hawks that flew across the open valleys, her beauty like the first flowers of spring but as fierce as the snowstorms over the mountains. As untamed and quick as the deer who leapt over streams and broken boughs. She was her own woman, unchained and spirited in ways you weren’t, and you respected that. 

The long silence stretches out, but you refuse to apologise. Maybe if you collated everytime Diarmuid was vexed with Grainne and just made that your entire personality for a year that he would step off. Just yeet you into the ocean. Maybe sooner since you weren’t a pretty as the morning sun.

_”I put you under geas now to stay the hell away from me but also take me home first.”_

_”Bring me those berries!”_

_*stabs him*_

_”It sure is a shame you haven’t invited Fionn and the High King of Ireland over here, and all your other enemies.”_

You sigh, putting the blade on the table. Yeah, you didn’t think that’d work out great for you.

“...I just want to go home. Even if there’s nothing.” you confess again, as if repeating this truth will make it any closer to reality. “Better yet, I wish none of this had ever happened. That we were still back in our house with Cu, having dinner or watching TV. Enjoying each other’s company for the sake of it, for the miracle that is our existence in the same place at all.”

“You still think of him.” his voice is harsh, resentful at the mere mention of Lancer.

“It’s not illegal to wonder what happened to a friend.” you retorted tiredly.

“I want you only to dwell of me and no other.” he leans in close, seats you so that you’re straddling his waist as he trails his fingers up your thighs. “Let’s see if I can’t make you forget anything else but how to call my name~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope people are liking so far :D And thanks chiisanaraincloud for your loyal patronage in this yandere house xD


	25. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag warnings: yandere themes, forced restraints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to think of something Reader could do to realllly piss Diar off xD Then I was like...I know the perfect way xD I think this’ll start the descent from soft yandere towards more traditional yandere I suppose. Last escape attempt but it’ll be spread over a few chapters I think. Thanks for reviews :D, I managed to summon an actual plot for this so I have the finale in mind! One day, I'll go back and proof read all this stuff too so it makes more sense haha (maybe xD)

“I love you.”

Diarmuid can feel his breath hitch, at how you’re peering at him through your lashes, eyes shining with joy, with nothing but adoration. Your arms are around his shoulders and he smiles, genuinely giddy to have the privilege of holding the light of his life. He presses his lips against yours, then continues peppering your face with little kisses. You laugh before burying your face into the crook of his neck. You’re wonderful, everything he’s every wanted and he thinks he’s reached paradise when you relax into him, full of trust and devotion and utterly _his_. You fit perfectly against him and even if they offered the great heavens and all the Lands of Promise in exchange, he would not relinquish you.

“I love you too, more than mere words can convey.” he confesses fervently, running his fingers through your hair and counting his blessings that have brought him here. “More than the rising sun or gentle rain, or the entirety of my homeland. I’d do anything to keep you...”

“I know. Sadly, your love is a terrible, jealous thing, isn’t it?” you remark casually, and he bristles at this shift of yours, how pleasant yet distant your gaze is. “So long you unwittingly condemned Fionn for his outrage, consciously or not, yet can you say you would be any different?”

“(Name), it’s not like that at all, why would you say such a thing?” he insists sharply, and his world _crumbles_ at the edges to hear your accusations. “I...I’ve loved you since that first Grail War, through all the years on the Throne and across the nine singularities… You _know_ Fionn had only just met Grainne whereas he had been my friend for years prior, yet still he tried in earnest to kill his blood brother.”

“Mhm, its a pity.” you merely said coolly and he squeezed you in his grasp.

“Tell me please, what I can do to make you understand.” he begged as you managed to escape his hold, slipping from him like water. “Wait!”

“I can’t wait, Diarmuid. I must go. Love has always been selfish but with you...it is cruelty.” you tell him indifferently, turning away. “Soon you will know what I mean when I say your devotion is a tainted, feral creature. And when the blood pours in rivulets from between your fingers, I’ll ask again in tears whether you are finally happy, whether you attained what you sought.”

“Stop it! Don’t you comprehend that its torture for me to be apart from you?! I worried _every minute_ that you’d be injured by some awful catastrophe, but when we finally had peace at the end of the Grand Order... Do you know how long I had to spend watching you fraternise with the other Servants or magi? I hated it...perhaps more than the actual combat because there was a risk they’d deceive you into falling for them. The thought that they might steal you from me when they had _no right_.... But despite how hard I tried to show you how _good_ I was for you...it never worked. You always just pushed me away, like I was nothing.” his chest is heaving, he clutches his head to try and focus but he _can’t_ because you never seem to be his, even in his dreams. 

“Cruelty? I’m the one who has suffered agony watching you spend hours and hours with those who did not appreciate you even a _fraction_ as much as I do. I knew you could never bring yourself to hurt Cu...but you could get used to his absence. I did it for us… (Name), I was so...lonely before we met. For all those centuries, I lamented my tragedies. To know that those I held close, my friends thought nothing of betraying me, even my wife who foisted this entire problem on me to begin with--! When I finally found you I thought fate had deigned at last to give me contentment and loyalty. I can’t...I can’t lose you. I love you so much, please don’t ever leave me…!”

He reaches out but its not enough, he can’t seem to touch you no matter how hard he tries and you walk away as easily as the the winter winds sweep south, gone in a moment, just a fleeting sensation. He cries out, tries to run but covers no distance, finally wakes in a cold sweat, to the sound of your quiet grumbles at his constricting embrace. He nestles you against him desperately, hushing your sleepy protests as he tries to envelop himself in your warmth, your scent.

You’re here now, and that’s all that he cares about. That you’re together.

\--*--

“No, no I don’t want to!”

You tried to fend him off, if you had your white cane you would have whacked him with it by now. Alas, he managed to pull the dress onto you in the end, swiftly fastening the sash in a knot you knew you didn’t have a hope of untying. Vaguely, you recall his legends, how he left the three kings in bonds so tight they could not be undone. Then left them there on the grass to slowly die from the crushing ropes. It is this questionable lack of mercy that makes you scared at times. You used to think it was just the product of his era, different values over the centuries but now you’re not so sure. At least this is in line with his bondage kink…

“There, all done. You look simply ravishing, my dear.” he praised brightly, spinning you around in his grasp like he hadn’t forced you into the wedding gown and flower crown. “Here, your shoes~ Let me carry you to the place, we wouldn’t want the attire to get dirty.”

You attempted to scurry away but found yourself in that familiar bridal style hold nonetheless. Resignedly, you let him take you outside because at least you would get to feel the sunlight on your skin and wind in your face for the first time in months. It’s haunting, the sensation of him leaping over the hills, landing so lightly it were as if he were gliding across the plains and mountains. Like before he had lost his mind.

He stops stop a cliffside overlooking the sea, you can hear the ebb and flow of the tide far below. You feel his lips against yours, a tender kiss this time not his usual possessive, passionate ones. The salt tinged breeze whips past your face as you turn away from him as much as you can, trapped against his chest as you are.

“It’s beautiful here, my love. The allure of a timeless, untainted land woven with magic is splendid. Did you wish to see?” he asks gently, and you hesitate, not replying. “If you marry me, I will bring you a way to restore your vision.”

“Oh...so you could do it but you’re choosing not to.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I have no reassurance you won’t leave while I am gone or after I come back with the gift after all, you should understand.” he responds evenly despite your nasty look. “Come now, darling. Is it so hard a decision? The title is merely ceremonial, whether you accept it or not, you will remain with me forevermore. It’s merely a question of what you could gain. Perhaps you would like something else? You need only request it.”

“Maybe for you, but I know it’s more than that.” you retort flatly, before levelling your accusation. “Tell me, is the vow not a modified self-geas spell?”

He blinked, then chuckled as he stroked your hair.

“Do you think me so base to use such a method? Either way, it would be an illogical choice. If you breached the contract, you would perish and why would I ever risk something like that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what goes on in that brain of yours these days.” you admit tiredly as he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Do you not wish for your sight again?”

“Not with strings attached…”

You don’t know how long it is he spends incessantly coaxing you to be a good girl, his perfect bride, to say yes to the vow, saying it was just a little thing as you did you best to ignore him. Sadly, he doesn’t seem to be giving up anytime soon and you’re starting to get stiff laid out in his arms.

“...What is the vow?” you grudgingly ask as he purrs happily at the cracks in your armour.

_”I give you my body and spirit, that we two might be one.  
I shall be your shield for your back, as you are for mine.  
No grievous word will be spoken between us, no strife part us,  
for our marriage is sacred, no stranger shall hear any complaint.  
When afar from you, I will long only to return to your embrace.  
Beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and the next.”_

“No.” you reject immediately after he’s finished, as he leans down to speak into your ear.

“Kitten, you’re making it difficult for me to dote on you. There are other ways of making you agree and I assure you, they will not nearly be as pleasant.” he informs you sweetly, patiently despite the threats. “What will it be?”

“No! I don’t--!”

“Shh, so be it.”

You tense when he shifts you but he only jumps down from the ledge and starts heading home. He’s polite throughout the meal, which you know had been specially prepared in light of the ‘celebration’. There’s roasted rabbit, smoked salmon and salted venison, all cut neatly for you so it’s easy to eat and seasoned by the herbs growing in front of the house. There’s honey and cream and fresh bread that he’s baked in the campfire outside. He’s gone through such...effort.

“...Thanks. For preparing all this.” you finally say awkwardly at the end, as he hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s no trouble, (Name).”

\--*--

You’d been rightfully anxious about going to bed that night, and when you woke your fears were confirmed. You couldn’t seem to move your legs, panicking. You hate how you instinctively call for him but...there’s no one else. He’s there in an instant, cradling your head in his lap and crooning softly to comfort you.

“It’s okay, you’re alright sweetheart.” he murmurs softly, as you tug at the restraints. “Your legs are tied to the bed, that’s all. No permanent damage.”

“Why?!”

“I have to make sure you don’t leave me of course. If you won’t agree to the vow, we’ll just have to wait for your muscles to atrophy instead.” he stated matter of factly, as you struggled in horror. “You’ll have to rely on me, _need_ me...for everything. Maybe then you’ll know how I feel.”

“What?! Are you insane? Let me go!” you plead as he clucks sympathetically, or not. “Please!”

“Not now, but one day you’ll understand that this was for the greater good.” he responds mildly, running his fingers along your chest, wiping away the tears. 

You tense, straining futilely against the bonds. He’s had the decency to wrap fluffy material at the contact points to minimise chafing but it does little to dull your frantic attempts at thrashing or cutting through the bonds with magecraft. You pause, contemplating your options. There was no guarantee that even if you did get married he wouldn’t just pull this stunt later. You thought house arrest was the worst of it but apparently he was happy to watch you wither if it meant you belonged to him.

“...If I consented to the vow, you would let me go?” you asked in a small voice, knowing it is a contract in disguise.

“Mhm...have you learned your lesson?”

What lesson? You wanted to spit those words back at him but refrained. You supposed he wanted obedience, for you to not deny his wanton and obsessive desires. As if you were just his doll or glorified trophy. You’re scared, confused and angry but even now, you aren’t yet ready to give in. Not yet. You know that vow will trap you in some way, is a form of assurance to him that you can’t leave. You have to go before he forces you into it.

“Yes...let’s just forget this and have the wedding you wanted.” you conceded, letting him kiss your lips like he wasn’t holding you down. “Okay? I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t realise it meant this much to you.”

“Indeed? Prove it. Pledge yourself to me.”

He’s trying to maintain a cool demeanour but you can hear his mounting, expectant anticipation.

“I...can we do it in the spot you chose? I don’t want to remember my wedding strapped to the bedframe.” you request meekly and he softens for you, undoing the ropes. “Thanks, Diarmuid. Could I take a bath as well first?”

You’re banking on him offering to fetch you the water, the aromatic herbs and a slice of soap. He typically does so, even warms the water for you even though your own magic is capable. He was considerate, sickeningly thoughtful yet simultaneously utterly selfish and greedy. Beyond the trepidation of your intent, you feel deeply saddened that it has come to this at all. That you both felt forced into hurting each other. 

“Would it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, you can sense his hesitation. In a gentler, more vulnerable tone he continues.

“You love me?”

You glance to the side, ask yourself the same question everyday.

“...I think I do. I’ve always cared about you, despite our differences. Once we get over all this, I think I could learn to love you in some way.” you sigh, can’t tell if you’re lying or not. “It’ll take time to leave this behind us though...to reconcile what we both want. But it’s possible...if we take it a step at a time.”

He beams, purring elatedly upon hearing this. He scoops you up, and you catch a glimpse of your old Saber from the guileless delight bursting from his body language, his hug protective and warm.

“I know, I know you’d need time to adjust. But this...you’re all I ever wanted.” he chirped in relief. “I want you to know I’d be willing to wait more than a thousand years for you, easily. We’ll take things as slowly as you need after the marriage, just don’t push me away anymore.”

He pets you a couple times, ecstatic. Enough that you feel almost regretful for what you’re about to do.

“Wait right here, my kitten. I’ll go draw your bath.” he promptly darts outside as you strain to hear the door shut. 

The moment it does, you scramble around the room, reaching into the back of your cabinet where you’ve hidden it. You roll the gem in your hand, where you’ve been storing away a little mana day by day. You’ll need it for what you’re planning. A part of you is terrified of what will happen but neither can you just stay like this. He’s tumbles further down the spiral of madness by the day...if not now then you might truly never escape him. It’s your last shot. You can’t even leave the house lest you rouse his suspicions.

So you crouch down right there, carve out a circular symbol on the ground. Then, you wait. As long as you dare until you suspect he's travelled some distance.

Liquid light seems to fill the curving lines at your feet, the swell of heat and mana indescribable, but still the same after all these years. You call out, reach to touch the threads of the Throne through this gateway and it takes all your saved mana and effort to skim the surface. You don’t even know if this will work, there may not be a Grail but perhaps the sheer amount of energy in this place will allow it. You’re in luck this time. The back of your hand burns, like a knife is carving out crescent moons. You sense immediately it is unlike Saber’s former winged arches.

The intensity reaches its zenith, the crackling of power flooding the room before abruptly fading back into nothing. But they’re here, you can sense their presence, their link blooming to life in your mind.

“At your behest, Cú Chulainn, of the Caster Class has answered your summons.”


	26. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Childhood Friends AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag Warnings: Even the Gallows Weep Spoilers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...after consulting one reviewer last chapter I decided to just post up some pre-written stuff I had planned for Even the Gallows Weep. I don't think I'll be able to finish that fic honestly, because I just don't know how to structure it in a way that I myself can maintain interest xD I wanted to write the chlidhood to yandere trope mainly, but for that I had to get through all of FGO plot aaannd Fate Zero plot rewrite, which I already got out of my system xD For summary of what is going on in Even the Gallows Weep, its in the comments of the previous chapter marked as spoilers xD
> 
> So instead I'm dumping my stuff here and one day if its all neat, I'll move everything back the Even the Gallows Weep. Or not, who knows! xD Until then, enjoy something other than yandere :D

You startle awake, or perhaps not. Because the first thing you realise is that you can see, the arching roof above you, the furs lining the bed beneath. You have sight again, and this place...it is foreign, ancient in architecture yet familiar all the same. They’re Diarmuid’s memories you presume, so this must be a dream. Perhaps you’ve been taken back to Chaldea now and are recovering...while your Servant has collected the artefact. Right on cue, said Irish warrior pops up next to you, eyes shining as you jerk in shock. You went _way_ back this time apparently, because he is a kid here, staring at you with wide gold eyes brimming with curiosity. You return his excited gaze in silence, because it certainly _looks_ like you’re the one he’s appraising yet you’ve never been able to interact with his recollections in the past, so there must be something else about to happen.

You peer around the room, the light pouring in through the window, overlooking a crystalline river outside. This place was beautiful, the very air hummed with poetry and unsung melodies. How your Heroic Spirit had ever adapted to the grime and brutality of the Grail wars, you’d never know…

“Hello! I’m Diarmuid.” 

You whip your head back in shock, finding the child had clambered up onto wooden frame and was smiling eagerly. You shouldn’t be able to understand this language, but you do. Why is he introducing himself? What is going on?

“...I’m (Name).” you reply politely, before abruptly flinching in shock.

You look at your hands, they are small, your voice is high and everything in the room isn’t abnormally large...no, you are also a child again. Panicked, you surge your mana, heightening your perception and scrambling off the cot. At the very least, your circuits are still there.

“Where are we, Diarmuid?” you ask frantically as he trails along after you, seemingly intrigued for whatever reason. 

“My room!” he announced proudly, sweeping his hand around.

“Uh...I mean this place. What happened?”

“ _Brugh na Boinne_! I found you by the sea, washed up under the steep cliffs! Father healed you and had you rest here.” he glances around furtively now before leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you a selkie? Or a merrow? I’ve never met one before! Father said you weren’t, but you can tell me if you are I’ll keep it secret. You can jump into the river outside if you need.”

“What? No...sorry to disappoint but I’m just a regular human. Please don’t be chucking me into large bodies of water!” you reply with a laugh as he nods sagely. “But..I’m not from around here.”

“Yeah, you look different.” he agreed as you chuckled a bit upon noticing the numerous bowls of water he had seemingly collected for you. “Come’on! I want you to go meet my brother!”

His grip is surprisingly strong even now, as you quickly manage to slip out though his insistent tugging. You had expected to wake, but if whatever this was is to continue, you need some time to think. 

“I...um I’m not feeling well actually.” you excuse, as he wilts a little, hurrying back to your side. “So, why don’t you head out first? I’ll join you later when I can.”

“No, no. I promised them I would take care of you since I was the one who found you! I’ll stay to keep you company! Do you want some food?”

Poor, precious baby. He’s pure and too good for this world, so whoever turned him into Avenger was a criminal. You shake your head, taking a deep breath and trying to center yourself. Magic flowed strangely here, and if this were his era then it was currently the Age of the Gods. Were you supposed to do something? Surely the deities that roamed the land freely would be able to sense your peculiarity, would they pose a threat?

He appeared again before you, shoving a badly cut slice of bread into your hand along with one of the many cups of boiled water he had apparently been fetching from the river. He then proceeds to sit down and stare at your face while nibbling at his own piece, as you join him on the floor. 

“Thank you, Diarmuid. You said your father healed me, who would that be?”

“Aengus Óg, he’s not my real father but kind of is, since my real dad sent me here ages ago. But real father is coming over tonight to stay with Fionn and their friends.” he informed you casually as you tensed.

Already? This was when Diarmuid would be cursed as a child to die by a boar’s wrath. He’s oblivious to your fear though, just munching on his snack. Donn’s jealousy would be the death of Congus and his own son… You stand, putting on a cheerful facade.

“Hey, I changed my mind, let’s go meet Congus!” you chirp as he tilts his head, it was funny that you already knew his half-brother’s name but he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hand and lead you outside.

\--*--

You raised your hands, eyes glowing with sorcery as you spun tiny figures made of light onto the ground, a miniature play woven from magecraft. Such luminous puppets were mostly for the amusement of children, something you knew they would likely be taken in by. You needed to have their trust by tonight after all, make sure that Congus was not so afraid as to run to the nearest adult that would surely be Donn if history were to repeat itself. But you also made them for yourself. It has been a long time since you bothered creating figures that only existed for those with sight.

“Can you teach me, (Name)? I have always been fascinated by this craft, but not seen it used for entertainment like this.” Congus asks enraptured as you nod, not sure if he had the circuits for it but willing to try anyway. Almost everyone who was anyone in this age had magic.

“Of course, I would love to.” you agree softly, making the illusions of deer and boar dance along his fingers.

“I want to learn too!” Diarmuid interrupts, grabbing at the animals so you materialise a greyhound for him to play with. “Teach me too please!”

You hesitated at that, thoughts landing on Caster Cu. Somehow you think that would be a terrible fate to condemn Diarmuid to considering you had no where near Scathach’s skill in tutelage. Better let him follow his path as a knight than a druid...

Upon noticing your reticence, he squirmed his way between you two, looking at the flushed and pleased expression on his half-brother’s face that he should be so guilelessly adored and accepted. Yeah, you had been trying to butter him up this entire time but only to save his life and inadvertently, the life of your former/future Servant.

Diarmuid supposed he shouldn’t be envious, he was aware after all that his foster father doted on him far more than on his half brother but a part of him still sulked. He knew you were special, that you were connected to him somehow. When he had seen you on those rocks, tossed up by the waves it had bloomed, the weight of a bond between your hearts that shone as brilliantly as the sun. He was the one who had found you...yet here you were, practically gluing yourself to Congus’ side, telling him fantastical stories and showering him in praise for the most mundane of activities. They perked up excitedly when they noticed you had made the two of the characters look exactly like them for a tale.

“At a great feast, there were two young boys who were much loved by all the knights and deities of the land.” you began, depicting Fionn and Donn and all the others you could recall from Diarmuid’s memories, a large mead hall. “But jealousy stalked through the guests that night, sewed discord among the gods and riled the hounds into a great frenzy--”

You stopped, choking. It felt like a knife was being driven through your heart and instinctively, you channeled all your mana to mend yourself. But there was nothing to heal. It was akin to being erased at the edges by a razor, rubbed clean from existence and your little play fizzled away abruptly. They turned to you in confusion as you shut your eyes. There was something stopping you from revealing the future…

You calm yourself, slowly reviving the actors of your skit. The Counterforce. Like Servants fought to remain in the modern world, so did you have to defy the natural order to exist here.

“Um...I…” you desperately try to change your plot, something that would keep Congus safe. “...And envy’s curse was to claim a life that night unless a child pure of heart rang a small gold bell...”

“Oh I have one of those!” Diarmuid chimed up, which you knew because you had spotted in the room earlier.

He made to run off and get it but you jumped up to grab it first. You needed to place that thing far away from Donn tonight, not have him ringing around all night. Alas, racing against the fleetness of the future Hawk of Ess Ruadh was not something you could accomplish that day and he seemed to think it was a game. So instead you summoned a barrier around the trinket so his hands bounce off the air. He keeps smacking them against the shield in confusion as you finally make it to his side and pocket it.

“No fair, you used magic!” he complained, trying to steal it from you as you genuinely fended him off from it. 

“Yeah, I’m not as fast as you...can I borrow this for tonight?” you ask, putting your hands together as he relents. “You know, just in case we need it.”

“Okay, you may keep it. But you definitely have to teach me your druidic spells then!” he made you promise, poking at you. “Okay?”

“Okay, okay.” you conceded as he cheered.

“Are you going to be at the feast with us?” Congus asked from nearby, having trailed after you two. “There’ll be plenty of food, even the nearby settlements are invited.”

“Yeah...I’ll be with the ordinary folk though so probably won’t see you.” you told them sullenly, because this would be like watching a slow moving trainwreck with people you cared about in the front carriage. A trainwreck you were trying to steer clear of.

Maybe you could afflict Congus with sickness or something so he couldn’t attend? That might be better than banking on him going after a bell but you had a feeling that cursing anyone under Aengus Óg’s watch would get you killed faster than the Counterforce could throw you back into the abyss. You looked up when said child grabbed your hand.

“That’s okay, I’ll keep you company then! These feasts are always super loud, everyone’s drunk...I don’t like them so we can go play somewhere quieter.” he offered and you beamed, face lighting up.

“Really? Thank you!” 

You could keep him away from Donn this way, somewhere far from the hounds when they started fighting. This was perfect and you thanked the heavens that he was so cooperative, that he seemed bookish and fond of you. Yes, it was in no small part thanks to you maintaining an aura of likeability and trust but such manipulation was necessary... Diarmuid huffed, what about _him?_ You guys were always leaving him out…

“Hey, why don’t you guys show me around this place?” you suggest, grabbing both their hands, noticing that someone was turning into a sulky panda.

Luckily, he forgives just as easily once he has his share of attention though.

\--*--

You arrive early that night, pointedly showing Congus where you hid the bell outside the hall when Diarmuid wasn’t looking. It was your fall back plan, should you not manage to get him away from the whole impending chaos.

“We can each get a plate early tonight, then all go back to Diarmuid’s room and you can teach us some magic!” Congus suggested, peering into the kitchens where the staff were bustling about in preparation.

But even as the words leave his lips, you can feel the sharp edge of energy, a deep cold burdening your heart. You were living the E- rank luck life now, you lamented...fighting fate for the happiness of just one man. Still...at least the Counterforce was giving you warnings as opposed to just chucking you straight off the nearest cliff. You took a deep breath...okay, you could not directly get Diarmuid to do anything out of accordance to his legend. But if you could break the prophecy of his death, perhaps it would be enough to waylay the bulk of his tragedy. 

You knew Diarmuid was much cherished by his father, who would undoubtedly want to parade him around. Congus too would be shown off, by the people though not Aengus Óg. But the latter seemed prone to shying away from the attention so perhaps his absence would not be missed and Donn’s jealousy would not be aroused. Having them _both_ gone would be far too dubious though, and risky. People would surely go searching, at least for Diarmuid.

“...Ah actually, I just remembered that your father said he wanted you at the party. So, I’ll show you another time.” you mentioned as Diarmuid’s face fell, he eyed you suspiciously. 

“That’s okay, (Name). You must be tired from just having woken up so you can show us tomorrow! We can play chess or something else instead!” 

“Eh? No, no. I can still teach Congus, we can head back to the room first. It’s only you they wanted at the thing…”

Congus nodded, resigned apparently to the golden child being in the spotlight once again. But for once, he was not upset at being allowed to slip away. Rather, he felt excited that he would get to have a taste of sorcery when the others were being rowdy. His father had taught him some basic transfigurations but they were so different from your brand. He had always been more studious than the other boys, disliked bawdiness and wrestling. However, right on cue, Diarmuid flopped himself in front of you dramatically.

“Why don’t you like me, (Name)?!” he burst out miserably as you tried desperately to hush him to no avail. “You always want to do things with my brother, but not me! I made you that bread, remember? I fetched you all that water, found you by the beach _and_ gifted you my bell! What did I do wrong?”

“Shh, nothing! Of course I like you, Diarmuid!” you soothe, literally pouring mana to calm his tantrum as he sniffs. “But your father wants to see you, so you have to go.”

“You give him special treatment.” he accuses petulantly as you sigh.

“Yeah but Aengus Óg always spoils you more so it’s only fair I get some attention for once.” argues Congus, fluffing himself up as his brother glares.

“But I was the one that helped them! You were off in the library, didn’t even know they were there! A-and you’re a _commoner_!”

“Diarmuid!”

You can see the impending sibling rivalry a mile away, and suspected that you were only expediting it with your preferential treatment. Not that your opinion should matter, you hadn’t been here long after all. Perhaps you were touching on something sensitive, given how obvious Aengus Óg’s favouritism was...

“Hush, let’s not quarrel now! We can’t all be demi-gods...” you say to try and cool them off but they barely listen.

“Whatever! If you’re too good to hang out with _ordinary folk_ Diar, then I guess we’ll have to go on without you!” with that, Congus grabbed your hand and marched right out the door.

He reaches out as if to stop the two of you, an anguished expression on his face as he sinks into a remorseful mope. 

“Wait!”

But his younger half-brother doesn’t stop, just continues storming back to his own room with you in tow. You’re not sure what to say or do, on one hand you finally achieved what you had hoped but on the other you realise you are exacerbating their discord. He bursts out before you speak.

“He’s always like that! Always gets what he wants because he’s _special _. Aengus Óg always gets him gold and silver presents, a whole party with lots of guests when it’s his birthday while I just get a piece of honeycomb and a trinket. Or he’ll get to go on trips and outings with the others while I’m stuck here!”__

__“Come now...the people here love you! It’s not so bad.”_ _

__“...It’s probably because I have common parents.”_ _

__“Yeah, we both do. And that’s fine! No one is born inherently better.” well, in the Age of the Gods that is questionable but you continue nonetheless. “It’s not our heritage that determines who we are, it our choices. Diarmuid spoke poorly, but he cares about you!”_ _

__“...I know.” he sighs, opening the door to his bedroom which is notably less furnished and ornate than Diarmuid’s had been. “I know its not his fault he’s the chosen one but...sometimes I still wish he wasn’t here.”_ _

__You feel suddenly guilty taking him away from the gathering where the people will treat him as equal to his brother but remind yourself that its for the greater good._ _

__“Well, siblings are like that. They get on your nerves and annoy you but in the end, you know they’d die for you. One day when you grow up, I think you’ll be glad that he’s stuck around for you.”_ _


	27. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag Warnings: Yandere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have actual plans for this plotline, can we believe it xD I'm just going to rehash the whole Grainne story but with Cu and watch Diar lose his mind xD Hope people enjoy! I do slow burn style when I actually have a framework but rest assured, I have plans to piss Diar off even mooorre xD Not sure about Caster Cu's interpretation but I didn't want him to be super nice to Reader, I mean to say he's giving up a lot to help her and I want to acknowledge that. 
> 
> Bplease leave a nice comment if you can, I'm working fulltime nowadays between uni break and its honestly singlehandedly going to give me high blood pressure xD

“Cu?” 

You reach out and embrace him, desperate for comfort and company that wasn’t Diarmuid, clinging to that furred coat of his. Caster, he said Caster. He wasn’t the same, but a part of you still hoped that he remembered some part of your shared past. Or maybe not, you’re not sure whether having his Lancer counterpart present would have made things worse. If it was possible, you were sure it would have managed to breed even more resentment in Saber’s heart. But you’d have to explain later you supposed. You felt terrible about dragging him into this mess but at the same time, you didn’t know what else you could do.

“Hey there, little lady.” he greeted, surprised by your spontaneous hug but not one to pass up the attention of a cute thing like you.

He could tell you were anxious though, and scanned the rest of the room for danger yet finding none. The walls were lined with runes, simple ones but plentiful to make up for it. The decor was telling, the white dress on the bed and wedding decorations around. He could sense there was some drama behind all this… You were also in the Otherworld, already an extremely unusual situation but not unwelcome. He could draw energy from the land, something sorely needed given the lack of a Grail. Still, without a greater mana source, his time here would be limited.

“I...we have to get out of here, there’s a hostile Servant incoming. If we can cover our tracks, it’ll be for the best.” you told him in a rush, before pausing. “It’s a long story but...I’m sorry about forcing you into this situation with me.”

“Ah, well what else are Servants here for I suppose.” he replied airily, taking your elbow and heading for the door. “Don’t worry lass, we’ll be long gone before they return.”

He swings his staff over the entrance, as the alarms fall silent. Glancing at the ring on your finger, he taps it, emitting a few sparks.

“That contains a tracking enchantment.” he informs you calmly.

“I...I can’t take it off.” you tell him as you struggle with the piece of jewelry.

“Luckily for you, I can.” he replies easily, channeling mana to break the bond, trying to reassure your wide-eyed nervousness bordering on panic with confidence. “There, nothing to worry about. I’ll conjure a familiar to carry it over the mountains, perhaps the enemy Servant will follow the wrong lead.”

Enemy Servant. You wince at the use of this term despite yourself. You remember the haunting fear, sleepless nights spent lying awake, ready to leap awake at the slightest sound, the terrible paranoia of the Grail Wars that surfaced sometimes like an echo from a previous life. The comfort you found in waking cradled in the warm arms of your longtime protector, who had faithfully guarded you through all the tribulations at the end of the world, never hesitating, never faltering. His softly whispered words in your ears were so sweet and gentle, and you remembered clearly the immense feeling of security and infallible trust you held for him on those quiet, dusky mornings.

A spectral crow forms in Cu’s palm, as he lets it clasp the ring, pulling it free before flapping into the skies in a silent farewell.

\--*--

“(Name)!” 

Diarmuid is terrified, can sense that the protections around the house have been tampered with. Your absence yawns like a chasm in his heart, pure agony. But worse still is the accursed symbol on the floor, proof that this is reality and not some awful nightmare. For a moment, he can’t even process what it is, that you would do such a thing.

“(Name) please! I beg you, come back to me!” he cries, rampaging around the room in disbelief as if you’ll come tumbling out of the laundry basket like last time.

But you’re gone, and he’s alone again.

He shudders, shaking as he snaps his gaze round and round the room frantically. He doesn’t want to accept it. You promised him...you promised you’d be his wife and that you two could finally live out ~~his~~ your dream of being together. He had been carefully, excitedly selecting fresh flowers for your bouquet, each blossom plucked for its particular meaning before he reached the river. He wanted it to be special. He imagined you’d be able to feel the different textures and know he tried so hard for you, no expense was wasted if it bought even a second of your appreciation. He was ready to begin anew today, leave behind all your disagreements after the ceremony because none of it mattered. None of it mattered if he had certainty that you couldn’t leave him. If he only had that, he could bear your desperate pleas, your lamentations and bouts of despondency with endless patience. Because he knew that you would understand eventually. He’d dared to hope, dared to have faith that his once fantasies could be more than that. He had almost managed to...delude himself again. And what a foolish decision that had been.

How could you do this? After all the lies you told, all the poison he allowed you to fill his mind with--! 

You abandoned him, betrayed him. He thinks for a moment that there is room beside his scorching jealousy to aportion some bitterness at you. Your actions have infuriated him, but all the same he separates _you_ from your choices. Whenever he feels that bubble of resentment in his chest he remembers that it’s still sweet, precious (Name) he’s thinking about. His darling, treasured bride with stars in their eyes, with that charming lilt in their voice when they called his name and familiar softness when cosseted safely against his chest. And he knows...he can’t hate you. That the irrevocable truth of his life remains, that he loves you beyond all reason or treachery. Longs for the simple happiness of just having you in his arms.

He touches the summoning circle, knows _exactly_ who has come to callously ruin all his years of careful planning. Who else could it be, in the end. He detests him, feels what remaining semblance of respect for that hero he once had evaporate from his blind fury. He should have found a way to erase him completely, yet even the geas seemed not enough. He burns, feels his fingers clench around his blade as if he could rip him apart from here. Sees red. You’re his, always had been and always would be. That the wretched homewrecker should try to defy the natural order was abhorrent, despicable.

He takes a deep breath, traces the link to your wedding ring that already has slipped from him as easily as the tide ebbs and flows from dawn to dusk. Hefting up Moralltach and Gáe Dearg, he leapt outside to retrieve what had been stolen from him.

\--*--

“Fortunately for you, I have spent a number of years on the Throne reflecting on ways to be rid of the annoying and/or unrequited attentions of ladies, from demi-gods to fully gods! So I have a plan that is easily modified to fit your circumstances~”

You blink, thought you’d be crying with gratefulness for this windfall but there’s only a hollowness in your chest. A rolling fear, prescience that things won’t be the same again at the end of all this. And to imagine him dead brings you no relief...only oceans of regret and sorrow. That it had come to this. But you’ve made your choice, Cu’s presence before you proves it and there is no avenue to return now. You must grasp this singular truth lest you succumb to the role Diarmuid had “graciously” carved out for you back in that dollhouse.

He has taken your winding story in stride, not reacting as surprised as you might have expected but you’re too preoccupied to notice. The two of you continue trekking along the river, opposite the direction of where your ring is being taken while another crow scouts the lands ahead. He senses your despair but says nothing to address it. Some battles had to be fought alone, and only time would tell whether you had won or lost. If there was even a victory at all. Most of the time, there is only a begrudging acceptance of the circumstances.

“There is little point in fleeing. I could not outrun him, let alone with you by my side.” he informs you bluntly, tone conversational. “As a Caster, it would be best for me to establish a Bounded Field. We may remain undetected for a while yet that way. Then perhaps when he is far, we may make a dash for Ériu, or even trap him a while.”

You pause, finally letting the question slip from your lips in a small voice.

“Thank you...but when you meet, will you kill him?”

He laughs, but without any mirth.

“Little late to be having doubts, hm?” he replies, and you detect a touch of admonishment but there is no unkindness. “There are more ways to bring death upon someone than with the searing edge of magic or steel weapons. No, he must bring it upon himself, and I will make sure that it is so.”

You turn to him in confusion at this cryptic remark, feeling the cold liquid mana of an illusion cast over you, dripping down like something sticky and thick. It is indistinguishable from the icy dread bubbling over your body at the notion of Saber lying impaled on his own spears or swords. You try to rub your skin but it is unnatural and heavy, as if covered in a dense, matted fleece. When your Servant speaks again, it is almost coldly, frigid.

“(Name), I heard your cry from between worlds, across the seas and burning skies. I answered your fervent prayer, consumed what tenuous shards of power from the dismantled Greater Grail remained on the Reverse Side of the World. There will be no more Heroic Spirits after me.” he suddenly declares. “You will pay the price for your freedom, and I will grant it to you one way or another. And whichever path fate follows, know that your dearest Diarmuid will not leave unscathed. You know this final tale can only finish in failure or success...”

_...in either liberty or death._

“Garner the strength not to stumble. We all deserve this much at least, to end with conviction if nothing else.”

\--*--

You’re gone. You’re gonegonegone--

“(Name)...?”

The truth hits him like a hammer with each step, but it is the sight of a midnight bird instead of his beloved sweetheart as he crests that final hill that disembowels him. Such is the abrupt emptiness he feels. All his hope crumbles to ash, a disappointment and dismay so intense that not even the inferno of his fury can fill the void that splits his chest in half.

He dispatches the creature, not with his signature grace but as a starved animal might devour it’s first meal in months.

Had anyone witnessed him now, they would not praise him as a hawk for his swiftness unmatched. No, perhaps they would not recognise this snarling, feral beast with black feathers between his teeth and vision blurred from tears. But he’d always been this wild wolf underneath the surface, felt the surge of bloodlust before battle or crippling jealousy at the notion of someone taking his mate. He seethed, roiled like an ocean tempest even as he held the emerald band gently in his shaking palm. His other fist was clenched around the dark remains of Cu’s familiar.

The savage, untamed part of his heart roars at this deception. Urges him to chase what trail and markers along the ground he had ignored in favour of following his magical tracker, _quickly_ before he lost the only treasure he had. The only semblance of purity and goodness he had managed to hold onto.

The gemmed green glints in the dying sunlight.

It was symbolic, he supposed of you breaking faith with him. Or perhaps he had never had it. He imagines you curled against your “saviour” at this very second, mewling into his ear delightedly, enraptured, your bodies entangled under the veil of night. He can feel your weight against him and the sheets, your delicare warmth, tries to hold onto the sensation but the only picture his mind summons is your bare form in the arms of that accursed Servant. You’re happy in this nightmare, relieved to be kissing lips that weren’t his and it was _wrong_ , the most bitter poison he could ever taste. It chokes him like a physical miasma, strangling him from the inside and he can’t breathe--!

He has to stop himself from crushing the ring in his grip, believes he will go mad with grief and envy if he continues. He jerkily pockets his gift to you. It was only a few days old, and now it was one of the few fragments he had of your prior presence in his life. He kept it like a flame, a luminous lightbringer to slice through the haze, that scalded when held too close, or for too long. 

There’s no point to this senseless wrath. Not unless Cu was in his hands as he tore him apart. But that would come later, he needs clarity and cunning now if he was to ever bring his darling home again.

Diarmuid takes a deep breath, shifts his gaze to the horizon where a small brook runs towards the sea.


	28. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne | Saber (Yandere AU) o9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag Warnings: Yandere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was worried that these in between chapters would be boring before everything blows up but glad that people are still finding it suspenseful :’D Thank you so much for your kind comments last time, really appreciated it <3 Having long responses to read to my chapters really brightens my day! Hope everyone is having a great holiday season and a Merry Christmas!
> 
> Mostly a Cu chapter. Everyone was like “oh i prefer Diar to kill Cu” so now I have to slap together some character development for Caster so the struggle is more real xD Idk about his characterisation since I just read like the Sparknotes of his lore and don’t know him in FGO but here we are anyway xD Ok I think I’m done pissing Diar off xD There’s enough stuff set up for him to be mad about xD For now at least >:D I’m just chucking literally everything I can think of haha 
> 
> I have a lot of lore with this verse, but also find excess description to be boring so hopefully this stuff still makes sense xD Idk just ask in the comments if things are abrupt xD I've tried to make it all flow by taking things ultra slow >> One day I'll proofread, I say everytime but never do xD

Cu whips around, his aerial familiars relaying information through their link to him directly. Already? Your lover must be ravenous indeed for your return to have travelled this distance so quickly… He makes his way back to you, to the small campfire where you’re still busily preparing the parsnip and onion soup. You always look a little less distressed when going through such nightly routines like feeding the fire or cooking. He supposes you associate this period with a modicum of safety. As if Diarmuid won’t be rampaging across the plains and mountains in the dark. Maybe you had to believe that to get any sleep.

He knew you felt guiltily at involving him at all and a part of him agrees. Knows that is why you insist on making dinner each day instead of letting him settle on boiled carrot slices and raw hazelnuts. Still, he remembers. The spectacular unfairness of being the object of affection of a goddess, the price of rejecting The Morrígan. He knows. That while his punishment was death...yours would be the opposite, something far longer. Eternal life in this land, by your infatuated suitor’s side. So even if it were his last act as this effigy of his former self, no matter how reluctantly, he knows he has already vowed to set you free.

“(Name).” He touches your shoulder gently, and the empathy surprises even him. “We must go, leave these items, he is close.”

Cu taps his staff against the ground, lets mana flow down and hide this evidence of your recent presence. It is not a _good_ job, but it will have to do. Diarmuid is swifter than he anticipated and you must reach the woods before he does. Amongst the towering pines and oak, his druidic magic would have greater potency.

“H-He’s here? Already?” you ask anxiously, scrambling around to collect your bag of essentials. 

Caster takes your elbow, can sense you’re tired from the journey and lack of rest. Silently, he pushes through a wave of energy into your circuits from where you’re touching, undetected. That familiar fear is back in your eyes, and for what it’s worth, he wishes it wasn’t. But it’s not a simple matter, your lack of faith in his ability to protect you was not unwarranted. Rank A+ Magic Resistance wasn’t anything to scoff at, nor was a lance that could pierce through magical projections or enchantment with little more effort than slicing through the air. Diarmuid’s undoubtedly bottomless pit of fury and jealousy was just the cherry on top of this wonderful mess.

_Relax, you’ll be alright._

Nonetheless, he still reassures you. Has the strength to spare to comfort you. As if he wasn’t preparing to die in that final confrontation, like he wasn’t sacrificing it all for a magus he had known less than a week. 

No, not for you. For liberty, for an ideal. For a salvation he was not afforded. For the countless years spent ruminating on his own fate, on the “what could have been” had it not been for the careless desires and injured pride of others.

_For as long as I am with you, he won’t lay his hands my Master._

\--*--

_”Have you heard the quote? Cooking is an act of love, a way to share a gift of comfort with others.”_

Diarmuid can almost hear your voice, the cheerful lilt in his ear from back before you ever touched these foreign shores. He can see you beaming as you welcome him home after a day at work, asking him whether it needs more seasoning, warning him that it was hot. He misses you something terrible. Still, it hurts more than it should, seeing this simple pot of half-ready vegetable stew that is still warm to the touch. Yes, it is natural that you would have made something to eat but it’s more than that. It is the fact that you had chopped the onions carefully into even chunks, torn up bits of parsley and peeled the parsnips just so. Clearly taken such...effort. 

You had not so much as touched a spatula since he had brought you home. At times, he even had to force you to eat at all.

He adored being of service to you, being needed so it was not a question of him being tired of preparing meals, but rather what this action of yours represented. That normalcy and trust could be afforded to Cu and _not_ him, that you would willingly heap this “act of love” on this kidnapper as opposed to your own fiance. He had yearned for your affection, still does. Hoped near deliriously everyday for a soft touch, a gentle word. He remembered _begging_ you for this sweetness. Yet none was offered to him, like a man burning, he was left to struggle and suffocate without relief. The initial withering of his heart at the discovery is kindled by the embers of his wrath. Resentment sinks deeper into his wounds for that Servant that had stolen away his wonderful bride.

The image of you two enjoying uncomplicated domestic duties and bliss together crushes him. Leaves him utterly floored. Why didn’t you love him enough? Hadn’t he faithfully, tirelessly tended to your every whim? Cherished you and defended you-- It should have been _him_ there, not anyone else. And of all people, _not_ Cu. Had this trespasser no dignity as to rob a married woman of her husband?!

He would make him pay.

For every second he was apart from you, he silently cursed that wretch to suffer an hour of agony. It was but a fraction of the pain he is drowning in now. He wonders whether he ought to make you _watch_ him rip out that Heroic Spirit apart, listen as he tears him asunder. Then you would learn that fleeing was a futile effort, that you would doom anyone you touched. A part of him relishes the thought. That he might have a chance of making you _understand_ for once, the depth of his ~~lunacy~~ love.

He shuts his eyes, knows he cannot allow his anger to cloud his vision.

As much as he longs to draw out Cu’s demise, he is no fool. Any misstep or second of underestimation could cost him far more than he was willing to lose. No, he could not afford to indulge his bloodlust, not this time. This execution would need to be efficient, not tortuous. He wouldn’t risk losing the only one he had left, even if vengeance would have to be a professional affair.

Gae Dearg slashes across the grass, severing the remaining enchantments around the hastily abandoned encampment. The trail grew hotter by the day. 

~~His poor precious darling, forced to flee with that crooked Servant. How tired you must be! And how cruel of that Heroic Spirit to permit you no rest. Disgusting, had he no sympathy? Could they not see how you lagged, struggled to keep up? Perhaps you even finally doubted Cu's sincerity, wanted to come home to him already but were now trapped by that beast’s side. He’d save you, he’d rescue you from those twisted clutches--!~~

He shut his eyes, forced his mind to remain rational.

Cu must be feeling the pressure if he neglected to more carefully hide your former presence. And every tiny clue he left behind would tie another knot on his casket. Diarmuid had a fairly good idea that he was no Lancer. This kind of sorcery to mask his escape was far beyond the runes that he had favoured, too advanced. 

He could only be a Caster.

\--*--

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, despite the chill. Without sunlight pouring down on you from above, the night air weighs heavily on you like a fog. You don’t want to inconvenience Cu though, so say nothing of the weariness in your bones. You’re not used to having to trek such long distances given your time spent under house arrest, and the small cuts and bruises from low hanging twigs or boughs remind you of their presence with each step. There are thistles imbedded in your shoes which are unsuited for hiking, pins digging into your feet. There would be blisters too, had you not been healing yourself.

You feel his thick furred coat draped over your shoulders, fluffy and warm. It’s more comforting than you can say, enough that you don’t offer to return it. He stops abruptly to survey the glade even as you tuck yourself into the hanging sleeves.

“This place will do for a temporary base. It’s no 5 star hotel but runaways can’t be choosers I suppose.”

You bite your lip. His tone is flippant as he raises the walls around you to form a new shelter, you can hear the vines and tree trunks seemingly bending and twisting under his magecraft. The crisp forest air seems to accentuate his cool demeanor despite the warmth behind his gestures. You wonder for a moment whether your prior judgement of Grainne had been too harsh. Were you not now forcing Cu with you in this desperate flight? And Diarmuid was youthful, famed for his beauty as opposed to an aging Fionn, he was your dear friend, not a stranger. He had cared for you, protected you… Then again, perpetuity was a far greater ask than a single lifetime. Perhaps there was little sympathy to be had either way, for anyone caught in this tangled web.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” you tell him, before pausing. 

It takes tremendous effort to continue speaking. You’re afraid, of course you’re scared of what will happen if you’re left alone but neither can you condemn Caster to Diarmuid’s misguided rage. You’re certain, even now that he wouldn’t hurt you. Not maliciously or with cruelty at least, he always loathed to see you in any discomfort let alone pain. You’re not a fool enough to believe returning to Saber willingly or otherwise would not leave you maimed, but it would be quick. Perhaps you would even be unconscious for it. But Cu...you had doomed him to a brutal death if he were defeated by your former Servant. So before your resolve can wither, while you still have the courage to hold onto your morals, you state your offer. Before you can think too much about the consequences.

“I...don’t want you to feel obliged to be here. I want you to have a choice.” you blurt out in a rush, taking a deep breath afterwards. “So...if you want to go. Then go. You have the right not to be chained to my problems. With no Greater Grail, I’m sure you must have other plans since there’s no wish prize.”

“Hn. I know I’m not some knight flaunting my honour like a badge, but it would take _some_ nerve to leave a blind lady alone in the middle of nowhere while a demi-god madman is hunting her across all of the Otherworld.” he replies over his shoulder, continuing to bustle about. “Duty bound or not, I’m going to see this through.”

You glance away. So much...fruitless sacrifice. Someone would have to die at the culmination of this play, and for what? Selfishness? No, Diarmuid shouldn’t have stolen you here, should have allowed you your independence and autonomy but was it so unbearable to be with him? Was it worth making an innocent man pay the price? A cost that no one yet knew. Such needless chaos...

“Should I try talking to him? Before we…”

“If it didn’t work the first few hundred times, I’m not optimistic about your chances of success now. Besides, it’s unlikely he’ll be persuaded given how furious and betrayed he probably feels.” he informs you matter of factly, guiding you to one of the bark-textured chairs. “This kind of love...it is without reason. Senselessly violent and always so near to insanity destroys as much as it seeks to preserve. It is selfish, and exhausting for all involved.”

A long silence follows his pronouncement, and you can hear the bitterness in his own intonation. You don’t pry. Or perhaps it is just your fatigue that renders you passive. When you speak again, it is in a quiet voice.

“...Why did you come? Even if you knew there wouldn’t be a wish?” you ask, feeling him brush against you as he sits down. “This can’t be what you wanted. I’m sorry for that. What did you hope for though, when you answered?”

“Don’t think too much about it, I’ve always been partial to damsels.” he dismisses immediately, too quickly to be natural.

It’s not something he can explain easily anyway, finds it easier for now to simply shove it under the rug. Even he doesn’t know. Was he seeking change, or had it merely been an instinctive response? Mere curiosity? No...he knew why. It was because for a moment, when your voice had echoed across the Throne...he had thought it sounded familiar. Not to him, he had never heard you before. But as if in another lifetime, he had. As if across the ebb and flow of time and the crashing tides of the ever shifting realms, there was a world where you had once been his in some small way.

He pauses, watching your sleepy form swaying there next to him in an effort to remain awake. You look vulnerable and worn, unwell. His cloak pools near your feet and for whatever reason, he softens at the sight.

“I’m here because you needed me (Name), and I think that’s enough of a motive.”

\--*--

Diarmuid jabs at a particularly suspicious leaf, but it turns out to be just that, a leaf. Not some disguise for Cu’s Bounded Field. It’s most inefficient to be whirling Gae Dearg around, waiting to see and hear that telltale sparking that it has breached enchantment but undoubtedly, mana is being used to mask your whereabouts. He growls, frustrated and vexed by this pointless pursuit.

You would be his again in the end, Cu was merely delaying the inevitable. He recalls how long his own flight with Grainne was. A month was too long let alone sixteen years…

He stops, catches sight of a red on the tip of a bramble shrub.

_Every time I thought of you on my journey Diarmuid, I lost a drop of the blood of my heart._

He knows you are not the same as the princess from the land under the waves, but the memory rises unbidden nonetheless. He fears, that fate may draw parallel lines. Condemn him to tragedy. That he will find you ailing on some bed of rushes, weak and dying. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety clawing its way up his throat. This dread is blinding, like sun on snow. Would you perish before he could hold you again? That bastard, he wasn’t taking care of you! He cannot allow such gross disregard for your mortal safety--!

He grit his teeth, once more had to drag his mind back to the present.

It was just one drop. You yourself were a healer, would not so easily succumb to infection or minor injuries. Cu, abhorrent and despicable as he was, was also versed in the art of restoration. 

Still, that you were in such a rush to get away from him...it stung. Were you afraid? This wasn’t your fault...not in any way that mattered at least. That Caster was likely filling your head with vicious lies, blocking your route of return. Intent on bringing calamity and sorrow down upon you both. You, his dearest sweetheart on the other hand, were like an innocent lamb. In need of guidance. He saw that now, that you were a naive thing wont to blunder into the cruelty of the world with little discretion. He needed to protect you, make sure you did not stumble into the path of those who would ruin your happiness. Even if it meant removing your circuits.

\--*--

“Well...I have some news for you about this illness of yours.”

You groaned, feeling nauseous and sick in the bunk Caster has set up for you. You’d been vomiting recently too in the mornings, and you think your body is finally protesting against all that running around. Compelling you to stay put for the past week to recuperate. When Cu clears his throat though, you can tell that something is awry.

“Congratulations, or not given the circumstances.” he tells you uncertainly, withdrawing his threads of magic. “It appears that you’re pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all already know I’m going to make Diar think the kid is Cu’s so he can mega rage about them having a family together xD As always, bplease comment if you can, I always appreciate it <3


End file.
